#marley and me fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedivinelights · 3 months

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Si Vis Amaris Ama

(Modern AU Scrooge/Marley)

They've had a long and winding road to get to this point, a childhood spun of fate and interspersed with romance. Nevertheless, Marley can't help but have his doubts at moments.

Luckily, Scrooge is always there to remind him

When Jacob A.T. Marley was twelve-years-old, he met his partner for the first time.

He didn’t know it at the time. A spiteful young boy, scorned from others and scorning everyone else, looked upon this blue-eyed, brown-haired boy with disdain and contempt the likes of which he’d never felt for anyone else nor held to such a standard. How dare he take the attention that was meant to be his?! How dare he come forward with his wondrous awe and a nervous countenance, as if he hadn’t known what he was taking with such avarice?! This was his territory, dense and unforgiving. He had claimed his rocky landscape with the Marley domain. The staircases and hallways were his hunting grounds, his bedroom his alcove.

This was his home. Lenore and Abel Marley were his parents. Any love directed at this intruder should’ve been his and his alone! He would choke him out! He would drag him away! He would refuse his friendship! There was no space in their hearts for this greedy, stalking, orbiting, forsaken, abandoned, adorable, cheeky, hopeful shark! None whatsoever! He would fight for his territory!

He would fight against this… this ruinous boy!

But he made a mistake. A foolish mistake. A beautiful mistake.

For when Jacob A.T. Marley was thirteen-years-old, he fell in love for the first time.

That love grew like a parasite, a bloodsucker, a leech, feasting upon the resentment he held, thriving in the very soil of his bitterness. It crept into the corners of his heart through every shared book, wrapping tendrils around his defences through every shared lunch, and before he realised it, the spiteful young boy found himself captivated by the very presence he had once despised. Even as the boy had grown into a man and found another, Marley was content to stand to the side, even as his heart screamed its protest. He was content to merely work with him, and content to leave it at that.

But then the life that had been born had been born cold, and the affection that had festered had turned into grief of the greatest magnitude, threatening to drown the shark within its black ichor. She left him when all tears were shed and all that was left was greed. And Marley, in his selfishness, confessed five years later. And Scrooge, in his practicality, accepted it.

Thus did the Shark and the Snake blossom amidst corporate greed, falling from grace in their sins, and rising from them all in the same breath, transforming in fire and metal and fear.

Wounds had begun to heal, ignorance turned to revelation, and want gave way to fulfilment. Atonement was by no means an easy task, but they chose to make the effort. Seven years gone, and only stepped back into the limelight when the world grovelled for their return.

And through change came truth, doubts laid bare. And Marley had to ask… had he made Ebenezer Scrooge obligated in this relationship? Was it all a series of contracts, a game to be won by default, or was there genuine affection behind the cold demeanour? Was the partnership merely a shackled facade, or had Scrooge truly come to appreciate Marley's presence?

Marley hadn’t the answer.

“...I’ve emailed over the PowerPoint slides with the information you requested. Did you…? Ah, I see you got our gift. No, no, all of that money is for your cause. I know… yes, I know it’s a hefty sum, but… there’s no hush in this money, sir. Asplex Industries is reforming. Scrooge and I are making sure of that. Yes… alright then, call my secretary for any further details. Cheers.”

Marley let out a sigh of relief as he finally removed the earpiece that had been in his ear for the last hour or so. He drummed his fingers on the table, a smile twitching on his lips at the sheer incredulousness of it all. It was amusing enough to hear the poor man over the phone sounding so sceptical, but so exuberant. A million quid hadn’t been that much, had it?

“I take it GamCare got our donation?” Scrooge pushed his way into their shared office just as Marley finished the call, his partner noting the bags under his eyes, and the crease against his brow that seemed to grow ever larger with each meeting that passed.

“If the screaming in the background had been any indication.” Marley spun a few rounds in his chair, before grasping the desk with his good arm to steady himself. “Poor bloke sounded like I’d just given him a winning lottery ticket.”

Scrooge let out a weary huff, running a hand through his greying hair as he sat down next to Marley. Despite the many shifts they had made in their lives, both the good and the bad, sharing a desk had become a habitual comfort that neither of them were willing to break. Besides, seducing his way into a sitting position in Scrooge’s strong arms, Marley thought with a wicked grin, was a nice little bonus all around.

“Board give you a hard time again?” Marley asked as Scrooge slumped beside him.

“Don’t get me started. The damn thing was interminable.” Scrooge rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t understand how Preslan can have so much energy to last through hours of drivel.”

“Glad it was you and not me.” Marley quipped, earning a wry smile from his lover.

“Ha ha.”

“Anyways, I have some time to kill.” Marley rubbed his right wrist, the bandages beneath shifting and tightening as he did so. “Want to grab some lunch? My treat.”

Scrooge took a glance at the time on the monitor and sighed. “Can’t. I have to coordinate with FULTON with Project: Terraforge. NASA’s paying us a hefty sum for this, and I need to ensure our resident AI doesn’t fuck it up.”

Marley wondered — quite often, he realised — if an artificial intelligence really could screw over a project that badly on accident, but he knew better than to dabble in the specifics and the statistics. He knew nothing of robotics or droids or golems that could terraform and transform landscapes, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

“No worries. I’ll grab something and bring it back here. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Scrooge shook his head. “I’ll survive.”

Marley stood up and walked around the desk, pressing a gentle kiss to Scrooge’s temple. “Don’t work yourself to death, okay?”

Scrooge hummed, acknowledging the sentiment without words, and Marley left the office with a heavy heart, wondering if there would ever be a time when Scrooge would prioritise their moments over corporate obligations. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the importance of their work; he did, perhaps more than anyone. And it wasn’t that Scrooge didn’t care; far from it. There was that sneaking darkness of guilt that would creep up on him as their past sins had manifested in dreams and cackled in his sleep. Marley never liked seeing him tossing beneath tangled sheets, being helpless to only sit and watch and cradle as he sobbed at the screams, whimpered at the wails, mewled at the memories. They were fully prepared to be dragged away in cuffs and trapped within bars when they revealed the truth fourteen years ago. It had only been by God’s grace — and the forgiveness of those they had wronged — that they were spared from such a fate.

They had been given the opportunity for restitution, but neither of them didn’t know what to do with it. A fitting problem for men who prided themselves on knowing everything.

They would not speak to each other for a few hours after that. Between scheduling, meetings, and a never-ending stream of emails interspersed between the fires that had to be put out, Scrooge and Marley’s paths rarely crossed. In the moments when they had, both would merely offer a brief smile or a peck on the cheek, and that would be that.

Marley wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t accustomed to such movements, but he wouldn’t say that the sting of disenchantment did not strike a heavy blow either. He hoped for more, he longed for more, and yet he received so little.

Until at last his phone had buzzed, and he saw the message from Scrooge.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Did you see what Fan sent in the group chat?

Marls: Haven’t had a look.

Scrooge forwarded the image of his sister with their young lady, their lightning bolt, their love, and the smile that lit up Marley’s face could have powered those automatons all on its own.

Marls: Ariana seems to be enjoying herself. We should visit the Philippines for ourselves one day.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: I explicitly told Fan NOT to buy her any chocolate.

Marls: She’s fourteen now, Eb, and she’s your daughter. You know no one can say no to her, especially her Auntie Fan. Aurora could, maybe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: She’s been indoctrinated by her son. You do it.

Marls: You know I can’t do that, I break too easily! T_T

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Then all hope is lost, indeed.

Laughter sprung forth from him like an abundant fountain, and Marley continued his pace. He passed a lonely little lady situated on the cold steps of a Holland & Barrett, a handful of newspapers outstretched towards each person that walked by. Marley stopped and turned to look at her. The little lady looked back. A silent kinship formed between them.

He smiled as he told her he didn’t need one, and he smiled when she smiled as he pulled out a tenner and squeezed it into her hand. He told her to save it well, and left just as his phone buzzed once more.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: If you’re not too busy, love, can you check out this address for me? It’s an old, rundown building, but Pastelle thinks there’s potential in it.

Marley received the postcode, eyebrows raised and voice lilted, giving his response.

Marls: I can do that. If there’s another incident with me on the news, you’ll know it’s unsafe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: Please don’t joke about that.

Marls: Alright, alright… sorry, babe.

❤ Smarty Sharky ❤: >:{

The playful emoticon had been enough to make his lips twitch, at the very least, and Marley conceded to the request, punching in the postcode onto his phone.

London had often been a busy tangle of labyrinthine streets and alleys, but in the blazing warmth of August — when the binds of school and work were put on a temporary halt, and life, chaotic as it was, embraced the joyous freedom of summer vacation — there was that singular sense of contentment that filled Marley whenever he so desired to walk amongst the crowds. It was a heat that permeated the air, seeping into every corner of the city, and Marley relished in the simple pleasure of being a part of the bustling life. Men, women, and children no longer parted at the sight of him, their fear of the Snake no longer prevalent. A toddler’s curious gaze lingered on his form for a moment, and Marley wondered then what it would be like to have that, even for a moment.

He hailed a cab and provided the address to the driver, sitting back as the cityscape passed by in a blur of motion and colour. The address Scrooge had given him was not too far from their office, situated in a less frequented part of the city that held remnants of its industrial past. It wasn’t really somewhere Marley frequented, mind you. His routes had often been more central, and when he committed to his self-imposed isolation after his accident, he had little reason to leave Essex.

But for Asplex, and for Scrooge, he would go wherever he needed to… within reason, at least.

The cab pulled up to his destination, and Marley paid the fare with little thought as he pushed the car door open, expecting a dilapidated exterior with more rodents and vermin than potential.

He stepped out onto the pavement, and Marley had to confer with the driver that, yes, this had been the right place.

For in the place of abandonment, Marley had been greeted with a beautiful facade, golden accents and intricate designs reminiscent of a time long past. A queue stretched out for what seemed like an eternity, and a velvet rope marked the barrier between the streets and the grand establishment that awaited him. There were those who gasped at the sight of him — the illustrious Jacob Marley, a public sight more uncommon than that of a comet streaking the night sky — and Marley clutched at his form, pudgy and unrefined as it was.

It was rare to see one of them out and about, and rarer still to see them together.

“Surprised, Jacob?”

Marley heard his name, sensed the footsteps, and felt the heat rush to his face as Scrooge finally arrived.

“Oh, you fucking asshole…” Marley gasped, and Scrooge laughed. It was a gorgeous sound, a beautiful sound. But there was none more handsome than the sight that laid before him.

The Shark stood at last, cleaning up better than even he had expected. His navy suit with his burgundy tie and white undershirt had been tailored perfectly, smart and smooth and snug. His black gloves tightened as his arm tugged against the silk and curled his hand into a fist around a mysterious black bag. His elevator shoes echoed across the pavement, polished to such a degree that they mirrored the city lights above.

“You’re six foot four.” Marley’s filter had long since passed away. “You don’t need those.”

Scrooge leaned against a pole as his leg slowly rose. “I could take them off for you, if you—”

Marley flushed crimson. “N-No, I think we’re… you’re… we’re fine!”

Scrooge snorted like a pig when he grabbed him with such speed, holding him and halting his attempted seduction. It was quite obvious, then, as Marley noted how Scrooge seemed to bury in and press his stomach ever closer to his own, hands trailing every curve and contour.

“I couldn’t resist, babe, I’m sorry.” Scrooge’s lips pressed a tender kiss to Marley’s forehead, and the blazing summer was nothing compared to the warmth that swelled within him as it roared and flickered all at once.

“You’re a liar.” Marley grinned. “A liar and a cheat and a monster. You are terrible. Absolutely horrible.”

Scrooge chuckled, the sound resonating in the night air. "Guilty as charged, my love. But this is a lie I’m rather proud of."

Marley rolled his eyes as he linked his arm with Scrooge’s. “Let’s hope you didn’t lie about reserving this place.”

The bouncer eyed them sternly as they approached, as suspicious as them as he had been of everyone else that passed through. But upon revealing their reservation, the velvet rope lifted for them without question. Marley could feel the leers directed at him, scrutinising and judgemental. They were all beautifully thin and fit, and he was here, soft and round, wearing a messy ponytail and arriving in ill-fitting clothes that gripped his body in all the wrong places. Scrooge could go for someone better here. He could’ve taken Belle and Dick instead of someone like him…

But then Scrooge wrapped his arm around him, and led him by the small of his back, and pulled him close. He realised it then, feeling as loved and owned as he was.

Scrooge would’ve chosen no one else. For there was no one more beautiful in the Shark’s eyes than the Snake that was nestled in his arms.

“Ignore them.” Scrooge whispered gently, his breath tickling his ear.

And Marley did, knowing that he could.

“Good evening, Herr Scrooge, Herr Marley.” The owner, a friendly German with a neatly trimmed beard, shook their hands with a fervour as he greeted them, and Marley recognised him immediately. The man had been one of their many victims in the past — a mismanagement of an old restaurant’s profits by a bootstrapper with more sleaze than sense was all that Scrooge and Marley needed to strike — and a tentative acquaintance that had become more cordial as compensation was issued and confessions brought to light.

Many had chosen to remain silent for their sake, a judgement that seemed incomprehensible, but was all the more just. For in a world governed by greed and secrecy, the truest forms of repentance were few and far between.

“Mr. Amsler.” Marley greeted back, flashing him his famous debonair smile. “You must have kept this under wraps for quite a while.”

“It’s all thanks to your Schatz here.” Amsler tilted his head, and Marley’s ears burned crimson at the end. “He said it was merely payment, but the selfishness has come clean, ja?”

Scrooge huffed indignantly, a hint of a pout on his lips. “How rude of you to insinuate that I did not do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Herr Scrooge. Waiving payment was your true motive.” Amsler winked, and it had been Scrooge’s turn to shift colours. “Right this way, if you please.”

He led the couple through the crowded rows of tables and chairs and up onto a grand staircase lined with ornate railings and decadent, dazzling chandeliers. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music filled the air as they ascended to a higher level, each conversation creating a symphony neither frenzied nor discordant.

The door swung open to reveal a luxurious space bathed in dim ambient light. Plush velvet couches and golden accents adorned the room, and a stunning view of the London skyline stretched out beyond the large windows. Ever had it been a magical sight, even to those two souls who had spent all of their years amongst these views. A bar sat at the far end of the room with an array of fine spirits and cocktails displayed in crystal decanters, manned by bartenders clad in crisp white shirts and black waistcoats, while servers floated around with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The scent of rich, sumptuous food wafted through the air, teasing their senses with the promise of an unforgettable night.

Amsler gestured to a secluded table set for two in a dimly lit corner, bowing with a flourish before leaving the couple to their own devices Scrooge pulled out a chair for Marley, and he took a seat, admiring the opulent surroundings as he settled into the chair opposite him.

The waiter appeared not moments later, impeccably dressed and similarly good mannered, as he approached with a practised smile as they asked for their order.

"I'll have the Kobe beef carpaccio for starters." Scrooge began, looking at Marley who nodded approvingly. "Followed by the lobster bisque, and for the main course, we'll take the fillet mignon for two, medium-rare. Oh, and a bottle of red, if you please."

The waiter noted down the order with a gracious nod and a discreet smile before turning his attention to Marley.

"And for you, sir?"

Marley glanced at the menu, his eyes widening as he perused the extravagant offerings. "Uh, I'll have the foie gras to start, then the truffle risotto, and, um, the baked Alaska for dessert. Sparkling water for me."

The waiter left with haste, and Scrooge scrunched up his nose in coltish abhorrence.

“Sparkling water? Really?”

“It’s a good refreshment.” Marley defended with a whine.

“Carbonated water is not refreshing.” Scrooge rolled his eyes as he rubbed his thumb over Marley’s bandages.

Marley laced his fingers with his. “Says the man who comes into the office with either Starbucks or a Monster.”

“The blatant disrespect! And after all the trouble I went through to make this date a possibility!” Scrooge’s lips formed a brazen smirk. “I had to reschedule my meetings for this.”

“Oh, the horror! Whatever will Ebenezer Scrooge do without his perfectly systematic timetable?”

Marley slapped a hand to his forehead in a comically theatrical faint, and Scrooge only held onto him tighter.

“Careful, Juliet. We’re not starcrossed.”

Marley grinned. Crooked, goofy, unabashedly him, and stupid enough to make Scrooge fall even further than even Icarus had, carried by waxen wings.

More patrons had filed into the lounge as they ate, each addition more vainglorious and eclectic than the last, as if the whole world had gathered in unison under pretences of sophistication. It often left a bitter taste in Marley’s mouth to interact with them. He knew how to please them, sure. Mr. Adeleye’s daughter was an inspired lover of Fan’s concerts, Mrs. Gupta had a weakness for diamonds — white ones, the size of a robin’s egg — and Sir Reginald and Lady Foster would be more than inclined to cooperate if their hotel room was shared and their specific ‘amenities’ taken care of. Cuffs, massage oil and the like.

Such was the dance Marley intimately understood. If you knew what one desired, you knew how to grant them. And if you knew how to grant them, you knew how to make them come back for more. It was simple commerce. I give you what you want, you give me what I want. A transaction as old as the days when cowries reigned as currency. And he knew each patron off by heart, their desires laid bare from years of slithering through the grass of pleasantries, keeping out of sight from the moguls and magnates that prowled similar territory.

People called him an assassin of pleasure, a harbinger of delights, a viper of vices, amongst other pretty little epithets. A teller of truths who toyed with them all the same. But Marley wasn’t a killer, not really. He was a survivor. A survivor amidst the throngs of those who would tear him down, who would expose him, who would feast upon his flesh like the carrion crows they were. He had learned long ago to play the game, to dance with the devils and demons that lurked in the shadows, and to emerge unscathed, unmarked, unbroken. If he lost a small part of his identity to imprint upon theirs, then so be it; the world was not kind to those who didn’t adapt to the shifting tides.

And yet, amidst all the decadence and debauchery, there was one thing that remained constant. One beacon of light in the ever-darkening abyss.

“You alright, Jake?”

Marley startled out of his ruminations, being greeted with the concerned yet affectionate gaze of his husband. He blinked. He shook his head and smiled.

“I’m alright, Eb.”

He thought that if he said it aloud, Scrooge would believe him. Others would have. His words were smoother than the finest of honey made by the royal family’s own colony. People knew him. That’s what they all thought.

But Scrooge just stared, face set in an expression Marley remembered. He’d used it for all of his life, for as long as they had known each other since the days of their meeting. First as a shield, then as a sword, and now as a crutch to lean upon when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

“Liar.” Scrooge had said finally.

Damn it, he thought. Damned was he who loved and knew so much.

“Yeah…” Marley pulled his hand away, bandages and all. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

The empty plate of baked Alaska appealed more to his attention than anything else at the moment. Scrooge continued to stare, and Marley felt like an Antiguan racer kept captive in a terrarium, observed by an indifferent biologist who knew every little intricacy of his being.

“You couldn’t ruin the mood even if you tried.” Scrooge’s voice was soft, tender, and Marley was furious with how much he wanted to believe it. “You make it better.

His husband scoffed, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him, severe and savage only to himself. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Scrooge leaned forward and reached across the table, both hands finding Marley’s once more and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry for being so preoccupied with work lately, and I’m sorry for not being there. I know it’s not ideal… and with Ariana away, we should be having time for ourselves, not swamped with work. But that’s not to say I think she’s a distraction, she’s not! I love our daughter! I love having her around and seeing her and spending time with her, but I also love to spend time with you, and…”

“Eb, you’re rambling again.”

Scrooge paused, cheeks flushing with a vivid embarrassment. “Sorry…”

Marley shook his head, amused as he had ever been with his antics. He told him not to worry, that he was glad that he understood, and Scrooge was glad he did too.

“I’ll be honest, though; I think I came… unprepared.” Marley’s eyes darted around like wild beasts, his sight escaping from the confines of their booth to the surrounding crowd, all dressed to the nines. “I feel like a duckling in a room of swans.”

“You’re a swan too.” Scrooge defended.

“You’re biased, Ebenezer.” Marley joked as his lips quirked upwards into a cheeky grin.

“I am just as objective as I have always been, Jacob.” Scrooge felt an innate sense of pride at his own words, puffing up his chest to contain it. “And my analysis of the situation dictates that as the truth.”

Marley hid his smile behind a sip of his sparkling water and told his husband to stop, but Scrooge’s refusal was undeniable. All it had done was fan the flame.

“Even still, with your objective deduction…” Marley mused, swirling his glass around idly. “The fact remains that, well, I am underdressed.”

But Scrooge, as sharp of a man as he had always been and twice as deadly, leaned back into his chair with a smug grin that could only very well be described as borderline infuriating to anyone trying to win an argument against him.

“Then allow me to fix that, dear viper.”

A bag was pulled out from beneath the table, the same one Marley had seen him holding when he first arrived, though being adamantly enraptured by other sights, he had given it no further thought. The bag itself was unremarkable — a black tote, with no discernible markings or designs, save for a small logo embroidered in silver thread. But as Scrooge unzipped it and reached inside, Marley couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation wash over him, tinged with a hint of curiosity and excitement.

Scrooge pulled out a garment, unfolding it with care and precision, as if handling a priceless artefact. And perhaps, in Marley’s eyes, it was.

For it was a dress Scrooge had gifted him. Not a suit that choked his frame. Not a tie that constricted his neck. Not a shirt that tore at the seams. A dress. A beautiful, majestic, wonderful, fascinating dress.

A dress Marley had only seen once before and yearned for only in dreams.

It was a masterpiece of fabric and design, crafted with the expertise of a master artisan. The material was a lush forest green, reminiscent of the deepest, most enchanting emerald hues of a secluded forest glen. It flowed like liquid silk, cascading down in gentle verdant waves that shimmered and danced in the dim light of the restaurant. The neckline was modest yet alluring, with delicate gold lace adorning the edges like the intricate patterns on a window of winter frost.

But it was the silhouette that truly took Marley’s breath away. The dress hugged every curve of his body with a flattering embrace, accentuating his figure in all the right places while skimming over any imperfections with effortless grace. It cinched at the waist, drawing attention to his wider hips and fuller chest, before flaring out into a voluminous skirt that would pool elegantly around his ankles.

It was elegant, refined, and utterly breathtaking.

“Is this—?”

“—the same dress that you were eyeing a few weeks ago? Yup.” Scrooge finished, popping the ‘p’ at the end, piercing even through the din of the bustling restaurant.

“But that…” Marley’s trembling hands reached for the fabric, the handover being as quiet as he had been. There was no way… this had to have been a dream, Scrooge wouldn’t… he wouldn’t…

We’re not married, Jacob.

Those words… he knew them well, all those years ago. They stung him, cut him, tore him. He was ready to leave. The Snake was ready to slither away, to leave the Shark to his own devices. To bury the man he knew and hope against hope that he would never cross paths with him in this lifetime, or the next.

The monstrosity of his arm was proof enough. The seven years away was proof enough. The child they found in the thicket was proof enough.

But now… even through the suffering and the pain and the greed…

People always said it was the little things that mattered most; Marley wouldn’t complain if there was a grand gesture or two sandwiched between them.

“Do you like it…?” Scrooge asked, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

Marley said nothing in response, only staring at the dress, then to Scrooge, then to the plates, then to the patrons, then back to Scrooge, then back to Scrooge, then back to—

He stood and left the booth, and Scrooge felt a drop in his stomach like an anchor sunken to the bottom of the sea, trapping him between hope and despair, fear and excitement, anguish and contentment. He’d fucked up, hadn’t he? There was no reason for Marley to stay. He gave him that choice the moment he saw the video, saw the papers, saw the pain. What an idiot he had been. A stupid, selfish, sleazy idiot. There had always been fine print. An excuse to make his husband don a dress. He promised he wouldn’t do this again. He swore it!

But then Marley returned moments before Scrooge thought to crush the glass in his hand, and he could hear the gasps of indignation that were muttered by the ones with delicate sensibilities.

Fuck, Scrooge had underplayed how gorgeous he would look in it.

Marley looked ethereal, breathtaking, radiant. It fit him just as the tailor had intended, clinging to his voluptuous figure, accentuating every round curve, every soft line of his body, flowing as the wind through the trees, graceful and fluid. There was a light to his aged green eyes and a true smile to grace his cracked lips. Black and grey locks flowed into a bun, just as he had before everything, but a looseness and fluidity was there. Each strand framed him perfectly, not framed him differently.

There was nothing, however, dear reader, truly nothing, that could compare to the face Scrooge had made in that moment, when he noticed that the bandages had finally unravelled, tossed in the bin. Marley couldn’t move it the way he wanted it to. The blemishes that remained, angry marks and dents like reddened craters on the surface of the moon. They twisted and contorted his once pristine skin, leaving behind a twisted tapestry of scars that told the story of a life forever changed by fire and metal and fear.

Marley looked at him at last, shy but somehow more confident than he had ever been, and still Scrooge looked at him like he was the most desirable creature to ever grace this earth.

“You look…” Scrooge’s voice caught in his throat, desperately finding the words that eluded him. “...absolutely heavenly.”

“Really…?” Marley blushed furiously, the rosy hue spreading across his cheeks like the light of dawn breaking over the horizon. “I mean… neither of us are even close to being saints.”

“I know we’re not.” Scrooge finally made his move, taking each step in stride as he forced his way out of the booth, into the centre of the room, in front of people who knew him and knew Marley. “But we can pretend to be, can’t we?”

He moved impossibly close, arms wrapping around as best he could, feeling the silk beneath his calloused fingertips, gloves long gone, the scent of Marley’s cologne filling his senses, intoxicating him like the finest wine.

“Let’s just be us, Eb.” Marley responded, burying into the crook of his neck as he repeated it once more. “Let’s just be us.”

Scrooge hummed, and the strains of music filled the air, permeating throughout the lounge with its melodious, dulcet tones. He vaguely recalled the theme being of musicals that night.

How fitting that Julie Andrews and Bill Lee should serenade them with something good.

“Dance with me, Jacob?”

“...Always.”

Tagged; @rom-e-o @quill-pen @crimson-phantom-designs @ray-painter

#ebenezer scrooge #jacob x scrooge #jacob marley #jacob alexander thorne marley #ebenezer lysandre percival scrooge #a christmas carol #modern au #everyone lives/nobody dies #This took me FOREVER TO DO #Happy Valentine's Day y'all!!!#fic

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