Stay With Me (Moon Knight, Marc & Steven)

[Wolfwings22]

It’s been just a little since I’ve posted something and I was working on another prompt list and came up with this Moon Knight fic and thought that some people would like it here. It’s fairly short and mainly fluffy, but it has a little bit of plot with some mirror Marc/Layla and Layla & Steven. So if that’s your thing I would love for you to read and I hope you like it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Marc comes down ill and when Layla steps into care for him and Steven, Steven worries that she’ll eventually come down with what they have. Layla isn’t about to let the threat of contamination stop her from giving Steven and Marc the comfort that they deserve, especially once the dissociation sets in.

 

 

 

 

    Marc breathed hard, left hand finding its way up to the side of his face as he ran blunt nails over his aching jaw. It was clenched so tightly that he feared it may snap from the pressure he had it under. Pulses of hot pain rose in steady waves through his throat, made ever worse by each frantic swallow. His nose was practically leaking and no amount of frantic sniffles or the brush of curled knuckles over the twitching appendage did any good. There was a tissue box directly to his left, practically waiting for him on the coffee table. The strength that it would take to reach over just seemed like too much and left his mind spiraling even more.

 

    It briefly felt like he was floating, his body weightless as though he was bobbing along through the water as a floater at the end of a fishing line. His head felt like it would dip under the surface of consciousness, only to breach the surface what felt like a moment later. It could very well have been another lifetime as all perception of time faded into oblivion. Years could’ve past and Marc would’ve been none the wiser.

 

    That thought alone about the unknown of the passage of time between his brief dissociations was enough to send his already fevered brain into a panicked frenzy. His heart rate quickened as bile rose in his throat. The hand that had been absentmindedly rubbing lightly turned more incessant, fingers digging harshly into each pore until deep red marks streaked across his face. The logical part of his brain told him to stop, yet the compulsion remained.

 

    He wasn’t given much time to ponder it as the vacant tickle that had been toying with him all evening increased tenfold. He hardly had time to lift his arm and duck forward into it, entire body snapping forward with the force of his throaty sneezes. Steven’s always tended to be more numerous and frantic while Marc’s felt like it was a whole body ordeal. He unleashed three within a few seconds of one another, gave another pause, and ducked forward two more times. The pain was immediate, radiating from his throat all the way through his inflamed sinuses. When he lifted his head from the crook of his arm, his left hand found its way back to the side of his face and started to scrub harder still, fingers seeping forward to dig at the side of his teary left eye with a vengeance.

 

    Marc faintly heard a soft voice behind him as the couch started to dip. He didn’t have time to turn his head as a cool hand found it’s way to his wrist and gripped it hard. It wasn’t violent, or anywhere near painful, yet firm as it was brought down so that he could no longer scrape his blunt nails over his face and risk further damage.

 

    “Marc…..Marc…..” The voice that spoke felt so far away, drifting in and out as if they were kilometers away. Marc’s head lolled to the side, muscles straining as he attempted to look directly to his side at whoever was nearest to him. He saw a telltale silhouette accompanied by thick black curls that framed a face accompanied with soft features. Despite the difficulty he had taking in a full breath, the familiar scent of apricot and honey soothed his heightened senses.

 

    Marc’s hand raised into the air as his fingers flexed. He made no attempt to reach to the person beside him, movements too sporadic to even think of attempting to even try.

 

    Graciously, soft skin found its way around his calloused hand and held tightly in a grounding way. “Marc, I need you to stay with me. Listen to my voice. Marc?”

 

    Marc’s eyes began to blink furiously until the whites of his eyes appeared as they rolled up in his head. He let out a heavy shudder only for his body to tense until his eyes fluttered open. His lips parted and a small whimper left his lips. It was both familiar and not Marc.

 

    “Bloody…..hell,” a British voice wheezed as he dropped his hand and stared at the women across from him. “L-Layla?”

 

    “Hey, honey.” Layla reached forward and brushed sweat slicked curls back from Steven’s forehead. “I was wondering when I would get to see you. Marc was…..”

 

    Steven sniffed heavily, pressure building through his sinuses. A shadow of worry clouded in his milky gaze, knowing exactly what Layla meant.

 

    “Did he space out?”

 

    “I feel like that’s an understatement, but yeah, he was in and out. I think sickness may be a trigger for him, but you know he’ll never say it.”

 

    Steven held up a finger and twisted around fully, vision swimming. Hot air struck the back of his throat as he hitched inwards, the cusp of the burning sensation through his irritated sinuses almost unbearable. His watery eyes squeezed closed as he sucked in a final breath and bobbed forward, spraying the back of his wrist. “Itsh’Shiew!” Steven surfaced with a snuffle, his nose feeling both full and runny at the same time.

 

    Layla fumbled for the tissue box and pulled out a bundle, stacked them, and handed them over to the sniffling man. “Bless you.”

 

    “Thahhihhh…..ITcsh’Shiew!” Steven lifted the tissues over his nose just in time, almost gasping at the strength of it. He halfway started to blow his nose, only to be forced to stop and sneeze twice more. “Itsh’Shiew! Itsh’Shiew!”

 

    “Bless you!”

 

    Steven managed a small half smile until his breath caught once again. “Oh…hih…cobe….hhhihhh….” Steven crushed the bulb of his nose with the palm of his hand and gave it a few violent rubs in a circular motion. The resulting squelch was the only sign of relief that Steven received as the sensation continued to dance through his sinuses, light at first only to pick up in tempo. His eyes suddenly squeezed shut hard as he fell forward. “Itchs’Shiew! Itsh’Shiew! Itsh’Shiew! Itsh’Shiew!”

 

    “Bless you, bless you, bless you!” Layla went to touch his forearm only to rethink as Steven shied away and huffed harshly into the wilted tissues. A final blow tended the fit, nose blossoming red when he finally lowered his hands and eyed Layla through puffy eyes. Fever splotches had begun to appear on Marc’s face, but now that Steven was fronting, it appeared even more prominent. He looked about five years younger and ten years wearier at the same time.

 

    Layla’s head tilted to take in more of Steven’s features when the man looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Layla didn’t push it.

 

    “How about I grab a blanket and we can cuddle while we watch National Treasure?”

 

    A pull cracked at Steven’s chest. The idea of snuggling with Layla on the couch while she was warm and comforting with perhaps a strong arm around his shoulder filled his entire body with an almost radiant glow. A blanket around his shoulders and a tissue box in front of him while one of his favorite movies played was so tempting. His lips pressed together to muffle a cough as he didn’t have time to twist away from Layla.

 

    “But, if you stay, you’ll get sick too,” Steven protested, teary eyes overbright as he blinked slowly, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows.

 

    Layla cracked a wry smile and leaned forward to press her soft lips to Steven’s brow. Steven’s eyes closed to savor the touch, a whimper edging his throat when she pulled back. A hand replaced where her lips left, curls brushed back once more. “I’ll take that chance. Now, how about that blanket?”

 

    Just the mere mention of the blanket caused Steven to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself and waited somewhat patiently as Layla retrieved a nearby blanket and brought it back over and wrapped it around Steven’s shoulders, taking extra care to tuck it around the space between Steven and the couch so it didn’t budge with any slight movement. The softness was utter bliss against his overly sensitive skin, the feeling of being wrapped reminding him of the times that he would secure himself in his bed with a chain around his foot and sheets stretched so tightly across his body that he could hardly move. While Marc hated the feeling of being constrained, Steven reveled in it.

 

    Steven coughed harshly as Layla settled back beside him, not hesitating to bring herself forward until she was pressed against him. Steven’s head found its way into the curve of Layla’s shoulder, almost to the collarbone. Even though his stuffy nose he could still smell her shampoo, apricot if he was not mistaken. It was Marc’s favorite.

 

    ‘Apricot’

 

    Steven winced at the sudden forcefulness of the voice inside his head. Usually he enjoyed any sign of Marc’s presence, especially after he had an episode, but combined with the throb of a blossoming headache, Steven wanted to dismiss the other man outright. With the patience of a saint that he would be sure to remind Marc of later, he flicked his left wrist under the blanket.

 

    ‘Yeah, mate. We’re with Layla,’ he thought back.

 

    ‘Layla?’

 

    The innocence in which Marc spoke was surprising. Steven feared responding in anything other than an equally calm tone would only cause more discomfort.

 

    ‘Yes, Marc. We’re with Layla and I’ve got the body for a few hours.’ He cleared his throat painfully despite the fact that he wasn’t actually verbally speaking. ‘Rest up and I’ll take care of us.’

 

    Normally that would’ve caused Marc to become horribly cagey, perhaps even dismissing Steven outright. For him to fade into the background of their shared headspace without struggle would ordinarily set alarm bells off in Steven’s mind. The all consuming fever was enough to turn his already spacey head even more disjointed with reality, and by the time the movie began to play, Steven felt himself fading fast.

 

    It wasn’t until a soft breath breezed against his ear that he allowed the remaining tension to fade from his muscles. “Let go. You’re safe. I’ll watch over you.”

 

    Deep down Steven knew that Layla wasn’t talking to him, not really. It could apply to him, sure, but that tone and those words were wholeheartedly for Marc. Although he was deep in the headspace, so deep in fact that Steven could hardly feel him at the moment, something shifted deep within, a foreboding feeling that he hadn’t been able to place until now finally fading into oblivion. A smile stretched across his face as he felt peace travel through him for the first time in too long.

 

    The End