This is somewhere Steven Grant never thought he would be, not even in a million years. But yet, here he was, laying on his bed next to a beautiful girl. But really, you were more than that. You were witty and intelligent and the most caring person he’s ever met. You laugh at all of his jokes, and not out of pity, and you’re happy to hear him talk about anything and everything. And you really, truly, are breathtakingly pretty.
The room is dark but the curtains are open, allowing the moonlight to filter through and illuminate your profile as you stare up to the ceiling. While Steven stares at you, he can’t help but wonder why the hell you’re even here. And in his blissed-out state, he had even less of a filter than normal.
“Do you ever wish I was someone else?” He asks, and he almost immediately regrets it when your head snaps towards him. It’s not that he regrets asking the question, instead he regrets ruining your peace, your relaxation, that you get so little of these days.
“What do you mean?” You get this little furrow in your eyebrow when you’re confused, and Steven can sense it more than he can see it in the dim lighting.
“Someone more like… Marc.” He hears your huff of breath, something not quite a sigh, as you contemplate your answer. That should freak him out, that should worry him, because if the answer was no you would have said it already.
You’re probably just thinking of a way to let him down easy, tell him that he’s nice to keep your company but you’d really prefer to be spending time with Marc, and he’ll forget your number and leave you alone and only ever get to spend time with your while he’s trapped in his own mind—
“No, not at all,” you finally respond, but he can sense there’s more coming, there’s more and he’s not sure if it’ll be good or bad. “I like both of you, of course I do, and as nice as Marc can be… he’s kind of an asshole sometimes.”
That makes Steven laugh, because you’re not wrong. While Marc loves you, he’s not the best at showing it, and tends to push away the people he cares about, including you. It’s that need to protect you that gets in the way, that makes him gruff and sometimes rude, but you always know it comes from his need to make sure you’re safe.
And Steven doesn’t know that you’d had a mirror image conversation with Marc a few nights ago. He’d asked if you’d prefer to spend your time with Steven, someone who’s more open to affection and who gives more than he receives.
You had told him exactly what you told Steven, that you loved them both and just because they’re different doesn’t mean one is inherently better than the other. You briefly wonder if Marc hears you now, repeating your gentle reassurances for Steven.
“None of this comes easy,” you had said, reaching over to squeeze Marc’s hand across the cluttered kitchen table, “but we all just keep working at it.” And you had given him a soft, reassuring smile and Marc could swear his heart grew three sizes that moment.
“You know, we could all be a little more like you,” Marc said, so earnest and lovingly that it made you feel a bit like a bug under a microscope, his gaze pinning you down. You’d gotten shy and stared at the floor before the conversation had moved on, but the look never left Marc’s eyes.
“But you… you’re funny and cute and way smarter than you give yourself credit for and you make me feel happy, and safe, ” you pause, taking in Steven’s face and the slightly red hue you can barely see from the faint moonlight, but you know it’s there. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”
It’s not as if Steven is perfect. He can be forgetful and let the world fade away from whatever isn’t holding his immediate attention. And Marc can be gentle and soft and loving, wrapping you in calloused hands and warm arms.
They’re entirely human, and you love every bit of them. They’re two different people who happen to occupy the same body, and you happened to fall in love with them both. They aren’t parts of a whole, they’re complete all by themselves.
You’d come into Steven’s life slightly before Marc’s, before even he had known about Marc or Moon Knight or Khonshu, when he was confused and frayed and exposed and about 99% sure he had gone completely crazy. He was only slightly less sure that he had made you up, that you were some mirage caused by his lack of sleep and unexplained bruising.
But you were real, and then everything fell into place and life made a little more sense to Steven. He was worried the first time you met Marc, cramped and panicking because why would you ever possibly choose him over the cooler, smoother, smarter man who he thought somehow was more attractive than him?
But you, you had somehow found the room in that big heart of yours to love them both. And love them you did.
Your affection came natural and often, but both of them were unused and thought themselves undeserving of that type of attention, pure and heartfelt. And while Steven wasn’t any less weary than Marc, he was more easily pliable, easier to tug into your arms and hold him there until he relaxed into it.
Even so, it had taken both of them months to get used to your soft touches and gentle kisses, the way you would hold them like you’d never let go. Now, Marc, and especially Steven, are greedy for your affection. But you don’t mind, happy to supply them with all the love you possibly can.
Marc and Steven both struggle with the idea of letting you go, that you’d be better off without either of them. You have so much love to give, why should you waste it on them? Why should this perfect girl, full to the brim with the purest type of love, waste it on a mercenary and a gift shop-ist possessed by an ancient god?
But when it comes down to it, they’re selfish. Neither of them could imagine living now without your soft smile and warm embrace and the way that you’d never leave their side, no matter what. So maybe it’s a bit selfish, but they could never let you go.
Steven notices the way you’ve gone silent and contemplative beside him, and he immediately tenses, thinking he’d finally said the wrong thing that would make you realize you’d be better off without him.
“‘M sorry,” he mutters into the darkness, purposely keeping his eyes glued away from your moonlit face.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t hesitate to reply, poised and ready to ease his fears. “Just know that I love you, always.”
Now it’s your turn to admire his profile in the dim lighting, turning your head to take in the curve of his nose, the slope of his jaw, the way his eyelashes fan out and his curls fall reckless over his forehead.
It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
If you could exist here forever, you would. Just you and Marc and Steven, content and cozy and bathed in the moonlight. In your continued admiration of him, you notice the steady rise and fall to Steven’s chest, the way his limbs have gone lax and sunken.
He never would have fallen asleep this easily before. He always tried to keep himself awake, to keep him from coming to miles and hours away from home, days later than when his eyelids fluttered shut.
But now, with you, sleep finds him easily, taking him away as gently as you’d hold a small child, a fragile thing. He drifts away enveloped in your warmth and in your arms, and if he’s lucky that’s how he’d wake up too.
Steven’s not always that fortunate. Sometimes when he wakes up, it’ll still be days later. It’s still disorienting and terrifying to lose such significant chunks of life, but he always knows you’ll be there waiting when he returns.
His bed used to be a place to avoid at all costs, something that only meant inexplicable pain and lost time, something to fear. But with you, it means safety and warmth and sanctuary. It means no sand or tape or restraints, only love and slumber.