There's fresh coffee in the pot, the small timer beside it indicating that it was brewed only a few minutes before he woke up. There's no Layla, however, and the faint tug of the tether points upward, toward the tiny rooftop terrace they'd discovered while exploring the building.
Not unusual, that - she often takes her morning tea or coffee up there, if she doesn't have anywhere she urgently needs to be. It's a good sort of space to use to think.
It's also a good sort of space to retreat to in order to give her husband room to wake up before ambushing him with the previous night's problems.
He gets his coffee, has a couple swallows to wake him up and clean his mouth a little, and follows the tug with a vague sense of dread. That note really was ominous, and Steven is nowhere to be found in his brain, which either means whatever happened last night wore him down enough that he's still out, or whatever happened last night made him want to hide.
He pushes the door of the terrace open, making a noisy creak. "Layla?"
Layla's curled up on one of the small chairs, woven from tough local vines, that's been set up on the terrace, knees tucked up with her arms wrapped around them, loosely holding her half-empty coffee mug. She glances up as the door creaks open, and offers him a small smile, wan in a way that suggests poor sleep. The presence on her end of the tether warms, though the wearily pensive cast to her emotional landscape remains.
"Hey," she says, and sets her mug aside, coming to her feet so she can cross the small span of tile and pull him into a careful hug, stretching up a little to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
Whatever Steven did, it isn't enough to make her mad at him, so he'll try to take solace in that, but her hug is so... delicate, it's hard to be even a little positive. He wraps her up in his free arm, trying to counter her caution with warmth, even though he's sure she can feel his worry regardless.
"Good morning. Or I hope it's a good morning," he hedges, kissing her temple after she settles back down from her own kiss.
She does feel his worry, and her arms tighten a little in a silent reassurance. They're ok.
She really, really hopes they're ok.
"You missed a nice sunrise," she says. "Sleep all right?"
She's not entirely sure how long Steven had been tossing and turning the night before. Probably at least as long as she had, worried and unaccountably lonely.
The hug helps, so yeah, she's not mad at him. Small blessings. "Not any worse than I ever do on the couch," he says. Which means, not exactly great, but not anywhere near as bad as it could be, really. He doesn't get the sense that he didn't sleep at all. He doesn't have a hangover, either, which is better than it could've been. So that's not the thing he messed up.
"What time did Steven go to bed?" And what did he do before that...?
"We really need to get a second bed," she says, with only the faintest whisper of humour. She tips her head to rest briefly against his shoulder, taking some comfort in the contact, before she pulls away and reclaims her seat.
"--Late. It was after midnight when I turned in, so sometime after that."
It was later still before she managed to actually sleep, and she doubts Steven slept much easier.
Probably not. Steven and sleep still don't often get along. Marc follows her, catching for her hand with his free one as he sits. "I'm guessin' you two had a talk last night. He left me a note to talk to you about it," he explains. "Didn't actually say anything else."
Layla winces a little at that. "Shit," she says. "That must've been unnerving."
She shifts her hand slightly in his, enough to lace their fingers together, comfortable and familiar.
"He's...not actually around right now, is he?" She can't actually feel his absence - it's still relatively rare that she'll sense both of them on the other end of the tether - but if Steven was present, if Steven intended to be present, surely there would've been more than a contextless note.
"Not a peep," Marc sighs. "Or I'd have interrogated him by now, myself. Don't know if that's on purpose on his part or not." It isn't really Steven's way to hide, but then, he also tends to leave some things specifically to Marc to deal with, too.
She makes a noncommittal noise at that, then falls silent for a moment, leaning over to pick up her half-empty mug in her free hand. She'd been the one who insisted they talk to Marc - and it stings a little, to be abruptly facing that solo - but she's not entirely sure how to start.
At the beginning, probably.
"Steven got into the magical cocktails last night," she says. "Not on purpose - he didn't even realize what was happening, I don't think, until I asked."
"Aw man." Marc winces. "That had to be, uh, interesting. Was everybody okay? Which one did he grab?" He can't imagine even the magic drinks turning Steven cruel, so-- shit, he can maybe guess where this is going. Did Steven actually come on to Layla?
"Yeah," Layla says. "I think he over-exerted himself a bit, clearing it from his system, but he seemed okay once he had a chance to catch his breath. You'd probably be a better judge of that than me."
Magical stamina seems, at least, to be tied to physical stamina, much as her own Heba talents are.
"It was the euphoria one. It was actually a little bit funny, at first - or maybe that was just the contact high."
"I didn't even know he could do that," Marc admits. "But I don't know how much of this tired is from the whole prepping-for-battle thing, how much is from the drink, and how much is just sleeping on the couch." Or not sleeping, as the case might be.
But given the way this is going, he need to hear more. "Go on."
One finger scratches idly at a small bubble in the mug's ceramic surface - barely a distraction, but better than nothing.
"Apparently, one of the effects it had was completely knocking out his verbal filter. We were chatting-" and oh, does she regret that little joke about handcuffs now "and he let slip that he's in love with me. I...didn't take it as well as I could have."
Marc's fingers twitch in her hand, like he wants to let go-- and he does, briefly, mostly so he can put his face in his hands-- but he realizes how that will look and squeezes her hand, instead. But he does close his eyes and groan a little. "Of course he did. And of course you didn't." It's one more secret he didn't tell her. And it's a complication to an already complicated situation.
At least the note makes sense, now. And at least it was just an accidental confession not something worse and maybe more out of character. "What happened?"
She squeezes back, which only serves to underscore the flicker of guilt from her end of the tether. She'd been unfair - not completely, but still enough to regret it a little in the light of day.
"We argued a bit - here, mostly, so there's not that floating around the camp. And talked a bit. We didn't really come to any sort of conclusion, except that avoiding each other isn't going to solve anything, and that we needed to talk to you."
The corners of her mouth crimp slightly. "Or I needed to talk to you, at least."
"Don't take that personally," Marc says, at least able to address the last part. "You know we can't really decide who's out when, half the time. He's probably just exhausted from last night."
He sets down his coffee and uses that hand to scrub his hair back, heaving a sigh. At least it's out in the open. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you," he starts with. "He really didn't want to get into it, and I--" He pauses, covers his eyes with his hand a moment, and finishes. "--I guess I was a little scared, so I didn't push it."
Layla pulls their joined hands up so she can press a kiss against the back of his. "Marc. I don't blame you for not telling me. It wasn't really yours to tell." She exhales a quiet huff of laughter. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but this particular communication gap isn't even a little bit your fault. It's Steven's, and it's mine for being - a bit willfully blind."
She pauses a moment, shifting slightly in her seat, so she's facing him more than not. "What were you afraid of?"
He shrugs, looking at their hands rather than her face, not. "Stupid shit, probably. That you'd be pissed at him and I'd have to deal with that. That you'd accept it as-- as just part of me, like he's not his own person." He sighs a bit, and finishes, "Maybe that you'd like him more than me."
"That last part's a bit stupid," she agrees, though there's no bite to it. She sets her coffee mug down, and reaches out to lay her now-free hand along his jaw, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. "I love you. You're my favourite person, even when you make me so furious I can't see straight."
He shuts his eyes at the touch, sighs a little. "I keep thinking the whole 'gets furious' part is gonna change your mind. Or the whole thing with the secrets." Because he still hasn't told her everything. He might never tell her anything.
He looks back up at her finally. "But that's a problem I've got, not any reflection on you. You've been great. Especially after everything back home." He sighs again, and adds, "And now this. I know it's gonna be weird."
Something oddly protective and a little bit sad flickers at her end of the tether. She strokes his cheek again, then drops her hand to cover his instead, so it's caught between both of hers.
"Weird's one word for it," she agrees. "I honestly thought he'd find some lovely, normal girl, and the hardest thing we'd have to deal with is hashing out the logistics and helping him explain that it's not cheating or an open relationship."
And she should not be feeling a sense of relief that it's not that conversation they're having. And yet.
"Is there some other word you'd rather use?" Marc asks with only a sliver of amusement for the choice. Not that it matters, he supposes. He wraps her hands in his second, so they're both holding each other. "He's been hung up on you since he met you, pretty much. Got distracted for a while, what with the dying and Khonshu and then the new world, but it never went away either."
And Marc hadn't managed to nip it in the bud when it was still in the crush phase, not for lack of trying. Possibly because his people skills are kind of lacking, and he has a hard time denying Steven things these days. Even if that includes loving the same woman.
"Overwhelming, a bit," she suggests, and blows out a quiet breath in something not quite a sigh. "Guess I haven't done much to help with that, have I?"
She certainly hasn't done much to dissuade Steven from what she'd convinced herself was nothing more than a crush.
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scarabwings) wrote2022-08-14 11:52 pm
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Not unusual, that - she often takes her morning tea or coffee up there, if she doesn't have anywhere she urgently needs to be. It's a good sort of space to use to think.
It's also a good sort of space to retreat to in order to give her husband room to wake up before ambushing him with the previous night's problems.
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He pushes the door of the terrace open, making a noisy creak. "Layla?"
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"Hey," she says, and sets her mug aside, coming to her feet so she can cross the small span of tile and pull him into a careful hug, stretching up a little to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
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"Good morning. Or I hope it's a good morning," he hedges, kissing her temple after she settles back down from her own kiss.
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She really, really hopes they're ok.
"You missed a nice sunrise," she says. "Sleep all right?"
She's not entirely sure how long Steven had been tossing and turning the night before. Probably at least as long as she had, worried and unaccountably lonely.
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"What time did Steven go to bed?" And what did he do before that...?
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"--Late. It was after midnight when I turned in, so sometime after that."
It was later still before she managed to actually sleep, and she doubts Steven slept much easier.
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She shifts her hand slightly in his, enough to lace their fingers together, comfortable and familiar.
"He's...not actually around right now, is he?" She can't actually feel his absence - it's still relatively rare that she'll sense both of them on the other end of the tether - but if Steven was present, if Steven intended to be present, surely there would've been more than a contextless note.
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Like... some things with Layla, mostly, actually.
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At the beginning, probably.
"Steven got into the magical cocktails last night," she says. "Not on purpose - he didn't even realize what was happening, I don't think, until I asked."
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Magical stamina seems, at least, to be tied to physical stamina, much as her own Heba talents are.
"It was the euphoria one. It was actually a little bit funny, at first - or maybe that was just the contact high."
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But given the way this is going, he need to hear more. "Go on."
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One finger scratches idly at a small bubble in the mug's ceramic surface - barely a distraction, but better than nothing.
"Apparently, one of the effects it had was completely knocking out his verbal filter. We were chatting-" and oh, does she regret that little joke about handcuffs now "and he let slip that he's in love with me. I...didn't take it as well as I could have."
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At least the note makes sense, now. And at least it was just an accidental confession not something worse and maybe more out of character. "What happened?"
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"We argued a bit - here, mostly, so there's not that floating around the camp. And talked a bit. We didn't really come to any sort of conclusion, except that avoiding each other isn't going to solve anything, and that we needed to talk to you."
The corners of her mouth crimp slightly. "Or I needed to talk to you, at least."
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He sets down his coffee and uses that hand to scrub his hair back, heaving a sigh. At least it's out in the open. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you," he starts with. "He really didn't want to get into it, and I--" He pauses, covers his eyes with his hand a moment, and finishes. "--I guess I was a little scared, so I didn't push it."
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She pauses a moment, shifting slightly in her seat, so she's facing him more than not. "What were you afraid of?"
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He looks back up at her finally. "But that's a problem I've got, not any reflection on you. You've been great. Especially after everything back home." He sighs again, and adds, "And now this. I know it's gonna be weird."
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"Weird's one word for it," she agrees. "I honestly thought he'd find some lovely, normal girl, and the hardest thing we'd have to deal with is hashing out the logistics and helping him explain that it's not cheating or an open relationship."
And she should not be feeling a sense of relief that it's not that conversation they're having. And yet.
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And Marc hadn't managed to nip it in the bud when it was still in the crush phase, not for lack of trying. Possibly because his people skills are kind of lacking, and he has a hard time denying Steven things these days. Even if that includes loving the same woman.
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She certainly hasn't done much to dissuade Steven from what she'd convinced herself was nothing more than a crush.
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