#dodofics

It was the best decision for both of them. Standing up to Khonshu was needed, they figured, and enough was enough, wasn’t it? For once, Marc got to wake up in a bed that he could call “his,” to not lay on a minimalist cot, sore and stiff from laying low. For once, Steven found himself appreciating the little things from a monotony he didn’t think was as dreary as it used to be. They found their peace, their harmony, and now they have a chance to make things right between them. 

The two of them took things one step at a time. Each milestone, no matter how small, was celebrated with a newfound enthusiasm neither of them thought they’d have. Some days, Marc would wake up at the crack of dawn, washing his face with routine efficiency and going out for a morning jog through the London streets. Other days, Steven would stir at a later hour and settle for a mediocre vegan breakfast- much to Marc’s dismay, though his version of a breakfast isn’t much better- and head off to transit. 

“Would it kill you to buy anything other than lentils and soy, Steven?” Marc would say through the knife’s reflection one morning, raising a brow as Steven chopped the tofu into uneven chunks. “And maybe get some better chopping skills while you’re at it.” “Would it kill you to shut your trap?” Steven rolled his eyes, though not with malice. “Maybe you’ll come to appreciate my palate.” Marc snorted in response, leaving Steven chuckling to nobody in particular. He set the tofu aside to scramble later. 

The day had been a slow start for both of them. As much as Steven loved his new job as a tour guide- especially with the trials and tribulations he had to get it- he couldn’t lie that having a proper morning to himself every once and a while didn’t feel too shabby, either. Steven prepared the veggies, dicing and adding in the onions, then the peppers, then- “Ah, shit!” Steven hissed, dropping the knife onto the cutting board with a harsh clang. 

Marc’s attention was immediately drawn to their hand. He could feel a pit of dread set in as he saw a bead of red welling from their finger. Their heart was racing, he realized. It may or may not have been his fault for that. “Steven, talk to me. Steven-” “No, no, I’m good.” Steven drew out a sharp breath. He shook his hand to try shaking out the pain. “Just nicked myself, is all. Calm down, yeah?” “Looks pretty bad, could get worse,” Marc blurted out. “Khonshu’s not helping us out anymore, we can’t take-” “The risk?” Steven stopped Marc dead in his tracks. “Yeah. The risk.” He felt the tension slowly escaping the body’s shoulders. Steven went to the tap to wash his injured hand, sucking in air and letting it out methodically to slow the rapid beating in their chest.

The water agitated the cut like tiny daggers, causing the both of them to wince before the sensation settled into a cool flow. “How about that?” Steven muttered quietly, consoling. “Doesn’t look so bad now, does it?” The soap gently washed away the red, the sight of it funnily bringing some closure. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” The reflection shifts. He already knew the answer, though he at least wanted to keep up the defense about it. “Nothing,” Steven replied promptly, turning off the faucet. “I swear it.” “Alright,” Marc mumbled, covering his relief with brevity and settling down into a silence. He could feel their ears grow warm, and Steven was privy to all of it.

“Still wired?” “It’s ‘cause the stove’s still on.”

“Mhm- wait, what?” Steven raised a brow. “What’re you on about, I-” He sniffed the air and turned to the stovetop. “Oh, bollocks.” Marc snickered in the back of his mind as Steven went to tend to the now overcooked tofu. At least it’s still edible, he supposed. Steven grumbled as he tried to salvage the remains of his breakfast. Afterward, he dumped the cooked contents onto a tortilla and decided to call it a day, grimacing at its extra char. He finally sat down at his makeshift dining table with a loud sigh. “Now what are you giggling about?” “Nothing,” Marc replied, even more punctually. Steven huffed, and Marc continued to watch him eat his burnt breakfast.

The bleeding sort of let up on its own, but as soon as that awful excuse for a burrito was finished, he hustled Steven along to patch himself up the right way… just to make sure. Steven flexed his finger to test the band-aid’s hold. “Normal-coloured plaster for a normal life, innit?” “I don’t think that’s how it works.” “Well, we think about a lot of things.” Steven looked up at the mirror with a spark in his eyes. Marc scowled back at him before relenting with a small smile of his own. 

The slow start had picked up its pace soon after. Before they knew it, Steven had already gotten ready and headed out the door for the afternoon shift. And before they knew it, if they even did at all, the cut had vanished.