K so you know the thing Liam Hemsworth does where he jumpscares Miley while she's staring right at him? it's some kind of inside joke and he does that shit all the time and I should be sleeping but.
Steve and Natasha. like. Tiny 5 ft Russian troll scares 6 ft supersoldier beefboy by saying boo at the least obvious second.
she remembers what moonlight looks like on the beach. wind blowing through her beach curls and the way marcus’ teeth radiated against all the blue of the midnight beaches. she remembers the way he was so excited. he was so excited for asking her, for the first time in a while, to marry him. she remembers her silence. all the way until she shed herself of her beach attire, and slipped into one of his shirts. crawling into his lap, she remembers his mild disappointment when she says that she needs more. good times don’t mean everything’s perfect. she needed to see a change in him.
that change came, and then the change turned into a promotion. the glimmer of the moon against the tides was like her tears of joy when marcus came home with champagne. he stood in the entryway, looking at her with his bottle and his messenger bag and the shoes she bought him to wear to work and he said, “babe, i made it.”
she kissed him for each grain of sand he stood on on that beach. for every whisper of pride there was a crash in the ocean.
he made it.
“i want to get him something nice!” donna get an apologetic shrug. “he worked hard, let him have something nice, julie!”
“mother, the man can buy whatever he wants!”
“auntie d, i can assure you, marcus has probably already bought himself plenty of gifts to treat himself.” chris chimes in after juliet, holding her glass of wine.
“well it’s the gesture.” she sticks her nose in the air. “my son in law deserves to be pampered. this is a big deal and i know eleanor isn’t making any grand gestures.” she holds out a hand. “i’m picking up the slack.”
“mother!” jules cries, looking at marcus, then to his siblings, whose eyebrows raise.
“i mean, she’s right.” sorcha.
his brother had summer on his lap, waving her arms around. “don’t think she even knows.”
“you didn’t tell her?” juliet turns to look at marcus, whispering as if that’s a private conversation.
marcus shakes his head, folding the tie and pocket square set back into the box. “donna, thank you very much for the gift, it’s lovely.”
“see? momma knows best, julie.” she shrugs, finishing off her glass of wine. “a man needs a good statement pocket square. you always look so stunning, darling, your husband deserves to look just as stunning right by your side.”
“you’re really laying it on thick, mother.” she rolls her eyes. “why don’t you drop down on one knee for him.”
“well if you’ve said know all over twelve times, i don’t see how i could make a difference.”
“twelve?” sorcha gapes. “really, marcus?”
“she’s exaggerating.” juliet answers for him.
“yeah,” chimes cuts in, “it’s more like eight.”
“please tell me she’s kidding, marcus.” jonah finally adds, shaking his head.
marcus doesn’t reply. instead her grabs his glass of wine and takes a sip, eyebrows raised, trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.
it’s cute. actually, it’s the first time in a while juliet catches herself thinking how cute he looks. not handsome, not sexy, not gorgeous. but seeing him blush over his love for her makes her stomach flip and her face to go soft. not at the embarrassing memories of the times he’s tried to get her to marry him, but the way he responds. he knows it’s ridiculous at this point. he’s embarrassed to be called out and outed like this, but it’s so cute to see him, completely bashful, at the sight.
she reaches her hand out to run through his hair, smiling.
“who needs to get married?” sorcha shrugs, “you guys are basically there already.”
“it’d be nice to be married.” marcus says, a bit quietly, his eyes darting to her.
the cuteness has ended. “alright, time to put the dishes away!” juliet smiles, standing up form her seat. “can you help me carry these, marcus?” she lets her hand run down his back for a moment before collecting some plates. “we have cake too.”
“cake!” the young one chimes, and sorcha reaches to grab her foot, giving a little shake.
marcus stands with her, helping to grab everyone’s plate. he follows behind her as she carries the empty serving dishes, setting them on the counter. “mother has weird taste.” she states.
“i think the tie look great. kinda retro.” he shrugs. “the pocket square will go well with that shimmery dress you have.” his hand runs over her back.
“oh.” she nods, picturing it in her head. “you’re right, yeah.” she shrugs. “she always needs to go the extra mile, though.”
“she really means the best, you know.” he pulls her by the hip. “you have a good mom, juliet. a bit much, but that’s not really her fault.”
“she loves you.” she lets the water run over the plates in the sink, then running her hand up to run through the back of his head, nails gently scratching. “she feels like she has to mother you, too, because, well…” she drifts. “i just wish she’d tone it down.”
“i love it.” he grins, which she only catches for a moment before she’s pulling her hand back, and moving from his grasp to slip the dishes in the dishwasher. he takes her place at the sink to run more dishes under the water.
“they all love you, marcus.” she says into the machine.
“i know.”
“i’m serious.”
“i know that.”
“okay, good.” she raises herself, smiling at him. “i love you.”
“i should hope so.” he looks from the sink, turning off the water when the dishes are rinsed.
she fills the dishwasher, closing it and walking closer to him, her hip resting against the counter. she reaches forward, taking his hand in both of her’s. “i’m proud of you.” she watches as her finger runs over his knuckles.
“you know, you keep saying that. considering i’ve done something minimal in comparison to you, it doesn’t feel like much.”
her smile drops from her face, and instead, a frown appears. she looks up at marcus and let’s go of his hand. she hates when he’s like this. no one is thinking that but him. he’s the only one comparing himself to her. he’s holding himself to a standard he could never keep up with. there’s a part of her that feels guilt. because he’s comparing himself to her and she’s always by his side. she just played for the queen of england, and he’s got a promotion to a job anything with a four-year degree could get . but it’s marcus. it’s a big deal. she wants him to be proud of himself.
“don’t talk like that.” she shakes her head, arms cross over her chest. “you did something amazing marcus.”
“but did i? come on, juliet.”
“why are you thinking like this now? you were so excited when you first came home and told me.”
“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking about it. you’ve been so happy and proud and i just… felt i didn’t deserve it.”
“you do! marcus you deserve all of this. you’ve just never had any of it until now. you want to get married? you have to start loving yourself. i can’t love you for the both of us.” she huffs, turning back to the dishwasher. “you came home, and you were beaming, and you looked like you just won the lottery, and you remembered what you said to me?”
“yes.” he rolls his eyes.
“you said to me, ‘babe, i made it’ and you did. you made it, marcus. stop belittling yourself because it’s not fair to you. just celebrate it like the rest of us because we’re all so proud of you.” she presses her lips together, unwinding her arms from her chest. “you are a good man.” her hands press to his chest, inching closer. “an idiot, yes. but still a good man.”
he grins, rolling his head to the side, but a hand still finds her hip. “be kind.”
she grins back, tilting her chin up. her hands slide to cup his face. “i love you so much and you have no idea how proud i am of you and i’ve never wanted anything more than to share my spotlight with you, because you are far more of a diva than i am.” he laughs, “you deserve to be reveled in, and you’re much better at it, too. i want you to be my star.”
“does this mean i can sing in your act.” he raises his eyebrows, a hand on her back.
“no, never.” she shakes her head.
his laugh gets covered up by her kiss. she can still feel the remnants of a rumble in his chest when she kisses him. his hands are tight on her, holding her close to him in their embrace.
“hey guys,” sorcha knocks on the counter. “summer’s getting restless for that cake. can we blow out the candles and eat before this gets to heated?”
