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bubuslutty · 1 month

Text

40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc.

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?”

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.”

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..”

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?”

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.”

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice.

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!”

He was good. Really good.

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.”

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily.

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link.

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?”

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.”

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!”

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style.

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 1 year

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The Nosy Neighbor

Title: The Nosy Neighbor

Pairing: Marc Spector/Steven Grant x GN Platonic Young Adult Reader

Word Cound: 2,803

Request:

omg you’re back!!! i hope you’re doing alright, life’s treating you well and all that.

since you’re looking for requests might a suggest a platonic/familial moon knight x reader (maybe a male reader but gn works too!) where the reader is a teen that’s a part of Harrow’s cult. Moon boys try help the reader get out of the cult but unfortunately reader is stubborn af. eventually they realise that Arthur is taking advantage of them and start reluctantly helping Moon Knight. Marc maybe even seeing a bit of himself in the reader when it comes to their attitude towards others (just being rude and blunt to everyone).

thank you for the chance, and again great to see you back!

A/N: Here you go!!! I'm a bit worried I didn't make them very stubborn but I hope you don't mind it much. I hope you enjoy!!! And yes, life has been treating me well. I've only been at the gym and studying lol.

“You’re a lousy spy. Did you know that?”

Sitting in the shaded London apartment on a rather gloomy day, Steven Grant sat at his kitchen table with a mug of tea in his hands and the eyes of a spy staring right at him. Now there were many things about Steven’s life that he could permit reason for having someone observe his every move. Such as how little legal paperwork the man has compared to his alter from the Americas, Marc Spector, or how he and his alter work as vigilantes for an ancient Egyptian God. The system itself was an abnormality that gave many concerns to different parties around the globe. It was a matter of time before someone was sent to observe the system’s every movement. What caught Steven, and even Marc, off guard about the whole spy situation was how it was this specific neighbor.

“Can’t say it was something I’ve been properly trained for.” spoke the spy before they took a long sip of the tea that Steven had offered them.

No, no. Marc fretted inside of the system. They’re too young. If Harrow’s reaching out to kids like this then he’s getting desperate.

“Has Harrow gotten desperate?” Steven asked the spy, only to receive a lame shrug. “You’re just a kid.”

Steven, shut up. That was rhetorical.

“Ouch. This kid still managed to get more information on you in two days than Harrow’s gotten in two years. So if you’re going to insult me, at least do it remembering that I can send everything I have on you with a simple rendezvous point away.”

Inside of the system Steven could feel Marc seethe in anger. The marine insisted to be released so that he may deal with the spy, but Steven ignored him and straightened himself up in his seat.

The spy in question was a neighbor from across the hall of Steven’s apartment. Y/n l/n, he’d learned the first week when he’d moved into the apartment. They’d introduced themselves while Steven was fumbling for his keys amongst the moving boxes outside of his flat. His first impression of them wasn’t much. Just a young chap, probably in university, and though they seemed nice, they had a sort of attitude in the way they responded. Rather abrupt and tended to keep to themselves. But they were still up for conversation whenever they found Steven in the hallway. That was something the museum tour guide liked about the chap.

So, for the next few days while Steven was moving into the apartment y/n would exit their own apartment to make small talk with the man before heading out on an errand. It was a habit that was maintained even after Steven was moved into the complex, as he often saw his neighbor while passing in the hallway. He was really pleased to have someone to talk to other than silent street performers or lonesome paintings in the museum, even if the kid could be a pain to talk to.

Marc had never made conversation with the kid himself. During one particular conversation with Steven he’d made it known that the kid probably lived alone. That thought alone never bothered him, as he’d seen all sorts back in Chicago.

But then the kid started to annoy Marc. Slowly their eventual chance encounters turned to daily occurances. Steven never minded it but to Marc he grew irked. The kid seemed to leave exactly as Steven or Marc was at the threshold of their apartment, rummaging for their keys, always inquiring about what they’ve been up to and asked questions that would require them to go into specific detail of their life, that Marc suspected that something was up. Perhaps their neighbor was eager to learn the details of the system’s life for an employer. Harrow, maybe? The CIA? He’d warned Steven to not speak to their neighbor until he’d figured out a way to deal with the young thing, but Steven went and did the exact opposite of Marc’s warning by inviting y/n into their own apartment.

The spy observed the apartment around them while Steven was in thought. “You have a nice apartment, shame it’s such a mess.”

“It’s not that messy,” Steven dismissed the look they gave him, “I don’ suppose you want anotha cuppa?”

y/n looked to the mug in their hand and sloshed it around before nodding. “Yeah, why not. I think I’ve gotten past the suspicion that you’re trying to poison me.”

Steven smiled at the young thing with a chuckle, relieved that despite the situation they had a sense of humor, and grabbed the kettle that sat between the two. As he poured the steaming liquid into the mugs, there was a sort of silence in the air. He tried to ignore the look that y/n gave him, probably expecting for him to continue the conversation.

“Thank you,” y/n accepted the mug from the gift shopist, “So how long have you known?”

“Known that you’ve been spying on us?” Steven sat back in his seat, “oh, we’ve known for a bit. Marc started catchin’ on ‘bit before me, but I’s was in denial about it. ‘Just that you’d been so nice an’ all, I told him ‘No, Marc, they’re just a nice chap. It’s just the generation these days, they don’t take the time to get to know their neighbors, we’re just not used to it when someone like them comes along’.”

He chuckled at his words, shaking his head and reaching for his reading glasses. “But a few weeks ago, Marc noticed you started receiving flowers. Tulips, always were tulips at your doormat. They’d came same time every week with a letter attached. That’s how your employers been communication’ with you, hasn’t he?”

“Wow,” y/n chuckled in exasperation, and almost in disbelief at the accusations thrown by the man, “so let me get this straight, you’re accusation of me being a spy is because I’ve been receiving flowers? Is that all?”

“Quite is, actually.”

“I’m sorry, Steven, but if you can’t see people as an enemy just because they have a partner and you don’t.”

“See, no you don’t. You know how I know?” Marc leaned over with his knees resting on his knees. “Cause all of this time we’ve met in the hallway, not once were you accompanied by your ‘partner’. You keep to yourself. You don’t have people over. Not even kids your age. So even a one-nighter walking out of your door is going to catch my attention. But same as me, you’ve not been catching many fishes out there, hm?”

There was silence. y/n glared at the marine at the string of words they’d received. All the while the marine observed their expression with a snide smirk written on his lips. Marc didn’t particularly blame them for the way they looked at him, but he paid no mind in showing the teen the attitude they’d given the gift shopist for these last few weeks.

“You know your boss has a real good sense of humor,” Marc tapped the mug against the table before hovering the ceramic to his lips. He spoke again before taking a swig. “ ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Way back in the day a Chinese general used to say that. He never lost a battle. Harrow must look up to him, choosing you for the job. Being across the hall can really let you into someone’s life.”

y/n looked at him as though they had no clue who they were speaking with. “Is it still you or is it the history buff talking now?”

“Nope, still me.” Marc clarified, unperturbed by the kid’s confusion. “I know a bit about history myself.”

“Oh.” y/n mused. Their eyes glanced between the marine and the cup between his fingers. “Sorry, it just seems like you’re more the muscle than the brains.”

Marc, completely ignoring the insult thrown at him, took another swig of his drink while y/n spoke again, making a face when he realized he’d drank Steven’s tea. “Alright, I’m a spy. What are you gonna do about it? Kill me? That’s not going to stop Harrow, he’s going to make the world right. ”

They watched the marine stand up from the table and make his way to the kitchen. Sitting atop the counter was a half-full pot of coffee he’d prepared earlier in the day. He grabbed a new mug from the counter and prepared his drink.

“We’s just wanna talk, is all. Understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.” Steven grabbed Marc’s cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table once more. This time he’d pulled his seat closer to the young thing and nestled his forearms onto the table. “ well, I do. Marc just wants to get you out of our way and deal with Harrow already.”

“.”

Steven chuckled, “So, how did this whole thing start between you and Harrow?”

The spy took a long look at him. Steven could tell that they were debating as to whether or not to disclose such private information to their supposed enemy. They looked at him with a stone face, fingers tapping in thought before they weighed in their decision. Expression morphing to match the sigh of defeat they exhaled, y/n hunched over their cup and watched the tea leaves in their drink.

“First time Harrow approached me about doing all of this I told him I’d do a lousy job, that I’d get caught. I told him to find someone else in town that could do it, but he was insistent for me to do it. Said that I was chosen to do it, that I was meant to do it.” They were mumbling, barely above a whisper that Marc had to lean closer to hear their words. Finally, after a few moments, they inhaled, straightening themselves into the chair. “Were you blipped?”

Marc observed the kid for a moment before answering. “No, I wasn’t.”

“I was a part of the population that was Blipped some years ago. When I came back there was no home to go back to and none of my family was accounted for, and the whole world didn’t care about people like me. But Harrow cared. He opened up his town to those who needed it and took the time to get to know every single person who came to him. Eventually, Arthur received a vision from the gods that he was meant to create a perfect world. He said that everyone who ever did us wrong would be punished. I mean, the world would be pure again. But he had a problem, you…”

y/n took a sip from their cup. All the while, Marc could only look at the teen with a straight face despite his anxiousness to the kid. It was obvious that the young thing suffered from Stockholm syndrome. They had the whole world turn their back on them. It was only natural that now they were so agreeing to the one person who showed them right, however double-sided it could have been.

“Harrow could easily send his men to my apartment and finish me off if he wanted to.” Marc admitted, knowing that his current living situation wasn’t exactly fort knox. “So why bother sending a spy on me?”

“He said he wanted to know what makes you tick. Whether the rumors that you were unwell were true.”

y/n paused and spoke with hesitation in his voice. “If there really are two of you in there.”

From inside the system, Steven shifted uncomfortably. It seemed that the news of the system spreads fast.

“ ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’ “

y/n smirked, amused by the words that the marine mumbled. “Same general said that? Or are you making shit up now.”

“Same one,” Marc acknowledged the young thing before Steven fronted. Immediately the man’s posture shrank and the little spy felt more at ease with the gift shopist accompanying them. “You do realize that what Harrow’s doing is wrong, don’ you?”

“Bringing justice to those who commit wrongs?” y/n shook their head confidently. “I don’t see anything wrong about that.”

Steven stared at y/n in disbelief, letting out a small scoff. “You don’ see anything wron- you can’t be serious? He’s probably about to take out half the planet. Aren’t you pissed from that guy- that- Thanos? Do you really want something like that to happen again? After everything you’ve been through?”

“The difference between him and Harrow is that it's all perfectly designed. Harrow brings justice to all of this! He’s wanting to kill off people before they get the chance to do something wrong! The people who were blipped, were blipped without discrimination. Doctors, murderers, criminals, children, lawyers! There were innocent people whose lives were ruined. My life was ruined. I was innocent.“

Marc’s voice was stern and rigid, trying to clear y/n’s riled up demeanor before they got more worked up. Only they were still going.

“You’re putting a perfect world at jeopardy, Harrow needs to make sure you don’t get in the way and-”

“Alright, stop, stop, stop.” Marc holds up his palm to the young thing in a final attempt to stop them, careful not to show any sign of aggression. “It’s mass genocide.”

y/n stared at the marine for a long moment, showing no sign of speaking. Maybe they were realizing the depth of Marc’s words? Had he gotten through? If so, he needed to act fast. So, Marc grabs his chair and pulls it so that he sits closer to the young thing. “Alright, y/n, I’m gonna need you to listen very carefully to me. Okay? Now, I know Harrow took you into his wing, fed you, clothed you, gave you a place to go, an’ you feel like you want to do what you can to help him. Pay him back, even. Trust me, I’ve been there before. Owed my life to a god myself and it got me in more trouble than you know. But Harrow’s working with a god whose concept of crimes is much different than you and I’s are, so there are people who are going to be punished for things that aren’t as bad as we make ‘em to be. And if it comes down to that you are called to die for a crime that you have yet to commit, do you think Harrow’s going to vouch for you? Well, do you?”

The spy, unwavering eyes staring into Marc’s own, said nothing. But they didn’t need to. Marc knew very well that he was slowly making sense to the young thing.

“What’s happened to you is going to happen again, only this time you’re going to see what a mess the world was when you left it. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And between you and I, I don’t think the world can handle something like that happening once more. Now, it doesn’t have to be this way. You can change that. But you’re gonna have to help me. how about you and I work together, hm? The more I know about how Harrow’s whole operation works, the better I’ll be able to take him down. How’s that sound, hm?”

Though Marc didn’t get his answer right away, instead he shot back against his chair when y/n abruptly stood up from the table and began to make their way to the door. Reaching for their shoes that they’d left, drenched in water from the rain outside, they hurriedly put them on.

“You’re crazy,” They grumbled from the doorway. Marc remained seated at his place from the table.

“Please, let me walk you out.” Steven stood up from the seat and reached for the door. He opened it, stepping to the side and patiently waited for y/n as they finished.

“Just think about my offer.” Marc urged as y/n straightened themselves up and gazed at him with reluctance in their eyes. “There are worse enemies out there than me, yknow.”

y/n, in all their confidence, strode past the marine and exited into the hallway of the floor that they shared. Swiftly they strode to their apartment at the end of the hall, and as Marc watched them he watched how their stride fell almost too quickly when they noticed a bouquet of tulips awaiting their doorstep.

Now, Marc didn’t know what exactly was in the letter that waited inside of the bouquet. But whatever was written inside of that piece of paper had made y/n question the theology behind Harrow’s conquest, as a few hours after their lovely conversation were they waiting outside of his doorstep with tulips in their hands.

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