Marc Spector & Steven Grant x Layla El-Faouly
740 words / Masterlist.
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Summary: Marc is having a day and trying to push through some discomfort to give Layla a good date. Steven is a man on a mission to get Marc to talk to him again.
Stranger things have happened in his life. Marc knew to roll with the punches, or at least try to keep his head above water. Not every answer was at the bottom of the bottle. Steven was wigged out and needed more reassurance than usual. As for Jake… well… he shook his head and kept walking. Was he pushing them both away? Maybe. The others had their ways of connecting with the world. Marc was the one that fucked it all up. Believing everyone would be better off without him. Closing himself off gave him that self-fulfilling prophecy.
He stopped at the rendezvous he’d promised to be at. Moved off to the side from the busy sidewalk to lean up against the wall and wait. Checking his watch, early. Still in his body but under the surface he felt restless. Like something was missing but he couldn’t do anything about it. Craving a cigarette when he didn’t even smoke. Fucking Jake. Had to be. Steven was terrible at hiding anything. Some days after blackouts he felt beyond irritable.
“What bee has got in your bonnet?” a voice chimed after Marc kicked at a rock. He glanced to the glass of the storefront and shook his head. Looking back away.
“You haven’t talked to me in weeks. Think we should though.”
Nothing. Marc didn’t look back or show any inclination he was listening. Steven sighed.
“C’mon Marc. You can’t ignore me forever. I said I was sorry - for whatever it was I did.”
Still nothing. Steven was quiet a moment thinking before trying another angle.
“I got Layla something… as like thanks for putting up with us… I was thinking it could be from all of us. You know? Together? As a team? So do you want me to put your name on the gift I got her?”
“You got her a gift?” Marc pulled a face and looked back at his reflection, noting the difference in features. Softer lines around the eyes. His hair was a lot more untamed than the slick back style Marc preferred to keep with. Sometimes it was jarring to look at his reflection and not always see himself.
“Well… yeah. She likes a lot of things I like and I thought I’d make like a care basket, y’know?” Marc pulled another face and looked back away again. Steven wrinkled his nose but persisted. Marc was finally talking and he was going to take whatever he could get. “Blanket. Snacks. Face masks. One of her favourite movies. Like a bit of everything, so she’s guaranteed to like something. Or is it too much? You could add something in it too. It’s the first gift basket I’ve ever tried making for someone else and-”
“Don’t bother.”
“Don’t bother with what? The gift?”
“No. Leave me out of it.”
“Well, are you going to get her something? You should. Maybe like chocolate and flowers? Everyone likes chocolates and flowers. She’s always really nice to me and I bet she’d-”
“Drop it, Steven.” His voice sharper. Loud enough to catch the attention of someone passing by, their concerned glance kept moving. He needed no relationship advice from Steven, of all people. Marc bit into his cheek and pushed off the wall to walk away. He couldn’t stay there listening to this shit.
Of course, just as he tried to leave, that’s when Layla decided to show. He stopped dead in his tracks seeing her walking up the street to him. His hard scowl lightened a touch at the sight of her. Taking a slow breath in and out to release some of that tension. He continued his walk up to her.
“Hey. Can we keep moving?” He asked, itching to get away from himself. No waiting for an answer to start walking again. “Sorry. Shit sleep.” He lied, trying to excuse away his initial mood. It wasn’t far from the truth. Still, he’d promised her a good day and he really wanted to make good on that promise.
“Have you seen me in the past couple days?” He asked as they walked towards one of the street festivals going on in the next block over. Summer was in full swing. He hoped she might have some insight as to what one of the others has been up to as of late. He didn’t like not knowing. Especially with everything that’s been going on with the mutants. They had to be more vigilant these days.
Logan raises a brow, peering through the doorway. "You called?" He grunts, a little displeased at having his off time interrupted. - @anthemforthesoulsucker
Lilian hesitates in the hallway, the ambient hum of the mansion barely audible against the tension she feels. She’s been here for nearly a year now, training alongside the X-Men, learning to control her powers, but sparring with Logan? That’s a different challenge altogether. Still, Professor Xavier insisted that she ask, saying something about how it would help her grow, push her limits.
Taking a deep breath, she steps closer to the doorway, her gaze catching on Logan’s rugged frame. He’s standing there, almost filling the doorway, his rough demeanor contrasting with the serene atmosphere of the mansion. His brow is raised, a silent question hanging between them. His displeasure is clear, and Lilian suddenly feels like she’s stepped on a landmine.
“Yeah… sorry about that,” she begins, trying to sound more confident than she feels. “Professor Xavier thought it would be… useful for me to spar with you today.” She lets the words hang in the air, half-expecting him to flat-out refuse or, worse, just walk away.
She steels herself, meeting his gaze directly. “I could use the challenge,” she adds, almost daring him to turn her down.
Logan watches with budding annoyance as she hesitates to speak, brow raising. He couldn't quite put a name to the face—he had a faint idea of what it could be, but it evaded him.
As she steps closer to the doorway, Logan cocks his head to the side like a curious dog. Her scent is strong—not unpleasant, far from it. It envelops him like a blanket, suffocatingly sweet, like a field of wildflowers and soft grass.
Logan chuffs, a grin tugging at his mouth as she speaks, looking like a doe caught in headlights. "Useful?" he asks, thinking over the offer. The six-pack in his room sung to him like a siren, begging him to come back and down it all, but who was he to turn down a perfectly good fight?
Logan straightens, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'll bite," he says, an amused air creeping into his voice. "Lilian, right?" he asks, the name coming back to him at last.
Lilian's breath catches in her throat when Logan says her name, the sound of it in his gravelly voice startling her more than she’d like to admit. She’d expected more resistance from him, maybe even a quick dismissal, but instead, he’s agreed. The realization sends a flicker of panic through her, and she’s sure it shows on her face. Her eyes widen, just slightly, and she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks.
She’s seen Logan around the mansion plenty of times before, his presence impossible to ignore. He’s always seemed like a force of nature—untamed, rough around the edges, and with a reputation that’s as intimidating as his claws. She’s been curious about him, sure, but never brave enough to strike up a conversation, much less ask him for a sparring match. And now, here she is, standing in front of him, her heart pounding in her chest like she’s a teenager with a crush.
“I… yeah,” she manages to say, her voice softer than she intended. “Lilian.” She swallows, trying to gather her thoughts, to remember why she’s here. “I, um, I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never really—well, you know.” She trails off, realizing she’s rambling. Focus, she scolds herself.
“I appreciate you agreeing to this,” she continues, her voice firmer now, though her cheeks are still warm. “I’ve been wanting to improve, and there’s no better way than… well, learning from the best.” The last words come out before she can stop them, and she cringes inwardly, hoping she doesn’t sound as flustered as she feels.
Lilian glances up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. She can’t tell if he’s mocking her or just genuinely entertained. At 27 years old, she never expected him to be the one who could make her so flustered. Either way, she knows she can’t back down now. Not when she’s finally got his attention.
Logan raises a brow, peering through the doorway. "You called?" He grunts, a little displeased at having his off time interrupted. - @anthemforthesoulsucker
Lilian hesitates in the hallway, the ambient hum of the mansion barely audible against the tension she feels. She’s been here for nearly a year now, training alongside the X-Men, learning to control her powers, but sparring with Logan? That’s a different challenge altogether. Still, Professor Xavier insisted that she ask, saying something about how it would help her grow, push her limits.
Taking a deep breath, she steps closer to the doorway, her gaze catching on Logan’s rugged frame. He’s standing there, almost filling the doorway, his rough demeanor contrasting with the serene atmosphere of the mansion. His brow is raised, a silent question hanging between them. His displeasure is clear, and Lilian suddenly feels like she’s stepped on a landmine.
“Yeah… sorry about that,” she begins, trying to sound more confident than she feels. “Professor Xavier thought it would be… useful for me to spar with you today.” She lets the words hang in the air, half-expecting him to flat-out refuse or, worse, just walk away.
She steels herself, meeting his gaze directly. “I could use the challenge,” she adds, almost daring him to turn her down.
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