So, I wrote a ridiculous thing. Based on this absolute banger.
Moon Knight drabble, gen, same body, slice of life, crack fic(?)
"Instead of meat, I eat veggies and pussy."
In the nearest reflective surface, next to the kabinets, Marc chokes on his own saliva.
Oblivious, Steven continues to cut his vegetables, singing along to the lyrics as his body moves subconsciously to the beat. "I like them both fresh, like them both juicy."
In the corner of his eye, he sees movement that isn't his own in the reflective surface of the kitchen counter. "Dios mío," Jake sighs, long-suffering, his voice barely audible above the blasting of the portable speaker. The look on his face is one of dread, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Steven, for the love of God."
"What?" Steven asks, indignant, as he fires up the stove. "You know I can't cook without music. It helps me keep my focus. And, wasn't it the two of you demanding I'd find some new music? I think I did wonderfully."
Marc sighs like he's realising he's made a huge mistake, shaking his head exasperatedly. Jake opts to remain silent, sharp eyes tracking Steven's every movement. There's an amused curve to his lips, though, a good-natured energy to his posture. Admitting defeat and being a good sport about it.
Steven's face scrunches up into one of victory for a second, before his attention is caught by the actual act of cooking. The kitchen smells of spice, garlic and freshly bought vegetables - it smells lived-in, homely. The frantic yet controlled energy of Steven fills the small space as he dominates the room, the music only adding to the symphony of the scene. Out of the three of them, it's him who enjoys cooking the most, happy to experiment and dedicate a few hours to it. As a result, the system has been getting a lot more healthy, mostly vegan meals as of late.
(There's Steak Day, twice a month, as a compromise - one for Marc and one for Jake - where Steven takes a break and the other men indulge in their hunger for Red Meats. That they're willing to cook. Steven will never understand.)
"That's swag, my flex, my flag
Zero waste, that is my jam
Save fuel and sell your truck
The karma comes for free and so does luck."
"Those can't be the actual lyrics," Marc mutters under his breath.
Jake, who has moved so he's closer to Marc, merely shrugs. "It's a bop, I guess."
Marc gives Jake a hard side-eye. "You did not just say that."
Again, Jake shrugs. He's even humming along.
"Know that being green is hot," Steven sing-yells as he drains the rice that's been boiling away and starts to put his risotto together.
Eat your salad, save the planet
Being green is sexy as fuck!"
He practically yells the last sentence. Jake leans close into Marc's side and whispers, "At least he's swearing now."
The laugh that escapes Marc's mouth is uncontrolled, loud, and incredibly happy. He's shaking his head, eyes screwed closed by the force of it as he's trying to get himself back under control.
Steven and Jake share a look.
"How did you even find this song?" Marc wheezes, as he finally manages to breathe again.
"Eurovision," Steven says, like it's obvious.
"Eurovision," Steven patiently repeats. "You know, that European music competition? The one that's supposedly not political but always ends up being political? The gay event of the year?"
"But," Marc starts, looking a bit uncertain, "we've never watched that, buddy."
"You might not have, but I certainly did," Steven says, indignant. "It was a few weeks ago, actually."
Marc still looks like he wants to argue about this, so Jake intervenes. "Why on earth would you watch that?"
"Oi!" Steven turns off the stove and crosses his arms indignantly. "I'm British, mate. That basically makes me a European -"
"Steven, what? No, that's not how it works!"
"The fuck it does, pal. Hell no."
"- And it's a European custom to watch it!" Steven finishes, even as Marc and Jake interject with their protests.
"The Brits definitely aren't European."
"Well, not since Brexit they wouldn't be, no. But they still participate, so I say it counts."
"You're not even British!"
"Israel and Australia also participate! This doesn't make them Europeans!"
"I have a British passport!"
As the three men continue to bicker over whether Steven qualifies as a legitimate Brit, a shadow moves outside the window. A breeze picks up, making the wrappings of Khonshu's ceremonial costume billow in the wind. He settles down comfortably, watching with vague amusement how Steven attempts to eat his dinner while Marc and Jake keep distracting him. The moon is yet to rise.
The night is young. There's time.
