hasaknightjob | Semi-Secluded Park Bench, Monday afternoon

Marc couldn't be in the apartment, was the thing.

He didn't want to be anywhere. Marc Spector had solid method to his coping mechanisms and they all boiled down to one concept: just don't. Don't be there. Don't deal.

Only running away wasn't an option because Marc had to consider Steven. And handing the body over to Steven was definitely not an option because as bad as this week was for Marc for Steven it was going to be a thousand times worse.

No prize for guessing if that was Marc's fault, of course.

The Steven of it all was why the apartment was a no go. Too much there that was Steven, too much that was personal. Marc was trying not to deal with memories, thank you, he didn't need help with the reminders.

So he went somewhere that meant nothing to him, which was a quiet bench in the park. And he went there with his last option for coping mechanisms, which was currently contained in a paper bag wrapped bottle at his side.

Maybe if he was lucky he and Steven wouldn't wake up until Sunday.

[For thems who know who they are. Warning for potential sensitive topics in addition to the unhealthy use of alcohol. More specific warnings will go up as needed. Safe for broadcast unless otherwise noted.]

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From:

pocketpretzels

"And... whatever is troubling you, won't rear its head ever again, after these few days?" Watts asked skeptically.

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc stared ahead for a very long time because he was very much not in a state where he was capable of giving logic a useful rebuttal.

"It's fine," was what he finally came up with. He held up the empty bottle. "Can do it again. It'll be fine."

From:

pocketpretzels

"Mr. Spector," Watts shook his head. "Marc. That's not going to work forever."

From:

hasaknightjob

Hopefully Watts wasn't expecting Marc to be able to say "Llewellyn" when he was in this state. Or possibly ever.

"Just long enough," Marc said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes because the world was spinning but not in the way it was supposed to be. "All it has to be. Long enough. Get past it, let him have it, he's happy."

From:

pocketpretzels

Hey, saying his name was easier than spelling it, at least?

"Until the next time. When you'll do this again. And eventually the drink won't be enough to chase it away," Watts reiterated.

From:

hasaknightjob

"He wasn't supposed to know," Marc said, the words slurring together. "That was the plan. It worked fine."

From:

pocketpretzels

"Until the walls between you started to break down and the plan didn't work anymore," Watts said, because that much, he did know.

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc nodded, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Should've known. Should've known it would fucking do it. Shouldn't have taken Dad's call."

From:

pocketpretzels

He'd been trying not to pry, but he wanted so badly to understand, that he couldn't help himself.

"Something happened to someone in your family."

From:

hasaknightjob

Steven just had to fall for a detective. Though considering how much Steven couldn't stop asking questions maybe that made more sense than Marc had realized.

"He wasn't supposed to know," Marc said, as though Watts had accused him of something. He went to take another drink then aborted the gesture when he remembered he was out. "I kept it from him. I kept it from him for months. He was fine."

From:

pocketpretzels

Unfortunately, this detective had also been doing a lot of reading lately regarding Jewish tradition, particularly regarding imminent holidays. So with the confirmation that something had happened, as well as Marc's repeated insistence about getting past the next few days... it hit him, then, what the something must be.

"Who was it, Marc?" Yep, first-naming again. "Who died?"

From:

hasaknightjob

Oh no. Marc wasn't having that conversation. He did another attempt to drink and, this time noticing faster that yes, it was still empty, he moved on to the next best thing: leaving.

Of course that assumed he could stand. Which it turned out he could not on his first attempt. He slumped back onto the bench when his legs wouldn't hold his weight.

From:

pocketpretzels

Of course, if Marc were not thirty-five sheets to the wind right about now, he'd realize that by sheer process of elimination, Watts was going to figure it out. Because again: detective.

"All right," Watts said firmly, shaking his head. "Come on, then. I'll not have you sitting about here like a vagrant." As if Marc himself hadn't just tried to leave of his own accord. He moved so that he could support Marc's weight once he tried standing again. "On your feet."

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc was perfectly capable of walking on his own in, like, a few tries or so. But whatever. He wasn't going to argue about it if Watts was going to be pushy about it though. Besides, it was taking enough concentration for him to keep his hold on the bottle as though it was magically going to have liquor in it again the next time he tried drinking out of it.

Which, considering where they lived, wasn't out of the realm of possibility actually.

From:

pocketpretzels

"Hmm, nope," Watts shook his head slightly, plucking the bottle out of Marc's hands and replacing it with a pretzel that he'd dug out of... somewhere. Don't question it. "Let's get you home," he continued, slinging Marc's arm around his shoulders.

From:

hasaknightjob

Being randomly handed a pretzel was certainly confusing enough that Marc forgot to protest the bottle being taken from him. Marc had no idea what to do with it, though, so he shoved it in his coat pocket.

"I'm fine," he said. Which would've been much more persuasive if not for how Watts's support was the only thing allowing him to stand.

From:

pocketpretzels

"We've already established that I don't believe that," Watts said. Then again, Marc was drunk enough that it was possible he'd already forgotten the first half of their conversation.

From:

hasaknightjob

Forgotten, currently in a part of Marc's thoughts that was such a blur he couldn't make sense of them if he tried, it was a close call really.

"It's fine," Marc said, because maybe this time saying it would work. "It's fine. I can handle it. It'll be me, and he doesn't have to - he'll be back for your trip and that'll be fine - "

Would it though? Damn it. Maybe going back to their world would make it worse. Shit. Marc was losing any idea of how to keep a handle on this.

From:

pocketpretzels

"I don't think it will be," Watts countered as they- slowly- walked back to the apartments. "You can't keep this separate. It's too big."

From:

hasaknightjob

"I can," Marc said. Whether he was convincing himself or Watts was a tough call. "I can do it. This time I won't screw it up. I - I won't - "

The sentiment of which was undercut by the way Marc's legs gave out. If Watts didn't have quick reflexes and reasonable strength, Marc was going to fall to his knees.

From:

pocketpretzels

"Ah!" Yeah, no Watts was going down with him, unfortunately. "Ooop."

From:

hasaknightjob

Well on the plus side that might have given Watts the perfect view as Marc shook, and his eyes rolled back...

And it was Steven now on his hands and knees and looking about to keel over. "Oh bloody hell. That's not easier when you know you're doing it."

From:

pocketpretzels

That was... markedly different than any other time he'd witnessed a transition between the two of them.

Watts's own body language shifted as Steven took over: while he hadn't hesitated to get close to Marc in order to help him walk, he'd still held himself with a certain amount of tension. Now, his movements were softer, gentler. The hand that had been on Marc's waist slid up so it rested on Steven's back. "Steven, darling? Are you all right?"

From:

hasaknightjob

Steven nodded, even as he took the slow, deep breaths of someone trying to steady themselves. "Give a minute. It's not like normal. Might be sick."

Notably, Steven didn't sound as though he were drunk.

From:

pocketpretzels

"As long as you need," Watts confirmed, the hand on his back rubbing slow, gentle circles in the meantime.

That was curious, certainly, how he sounded more disoriented than drunk.

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