Marc Spector & Steven Grant
Summary: Readjusting to civilian life has never been Marc's strongest trait. Crappy weather causes him to shelter in place for a moment.
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Returning from Egypt had come with a mixture of feelings. He'd asked Layla to give him some space to get back on his feet. Promised he wouldn't ignore her calls this time. He just needed a few weeks to figure out his shit before he could add relationship stuff on top of it. There were fewer gaps between him and Steven now. Felt him pottering around more in his head whenever he had the body. Wasn't so subtle about being there when Steven had it.
Stepping out from the building, Marc's hand raised up to rub at his face. A tired sigh escaped him. Didn't think they'd get the job. The interview went about as well as he'd expected. A light splatter hit his face and he squinted up to the grey overcast skies. Great. "Told you it was gonna rain. Didn't I?" A mutter to himself, no bite in his words. More pointedly to the little British man floating around in his head. Catching his own reflection looking back at him in the glass of the building. He pushed on. It'd not stopped raining. On and off. All freaking day. All the interviews today felt like a bust.
Marc raised the collar of his coat up to zip fully. Hands stuffed into his pockets. He scowled and began the walk home. Hated the rain. Hated being in the rain. The light pitter-patter on the ground turned heavier, water soaking him to the bone. He took shelter under a bus stop to look out at the heavy rainfall. Alone for the time being, almost. He felt eyes on him from his reflection on the other side. Marc dropped onto the small bench and leaned his back against the glass. Knees spread out to keep him perched on the stupidly small seat. Hand coming up to push the wet hair back.
Checking his pockets. He dipped his hand into the one at his chest and retrieved a cigarette to attempt to light. If the lighter would actually work. Another flick and he got it. Taking in a long inhale he put the lighter and box back to exhale a slow cloud of smoke. "It's either I do it here or in your apartment." Marc muttered and cast Steven a look. He didn't know where the cravings came from. Just out the blue felt like a need rather than a want. It wasn't like he chain-smoked or anything. Just enough to take the edge off his shit day.