*excited squealing and happy internal screaming intensifies*
You know what I really love about this dynamic?
While Marc may have been jealous over Steven falling in love with Layla at first, I really like how between punching him and helping him in the tomb in Ep4, Marc has come to accept that Steven’s in love with Layla. (Remember the angry “I’ll throw us off a cliff!!” and the resigned “So, you kissed her.”? It’s kinda telling how much thinking Marc has been doing while in the passenger seat.) And also, it’s pretty evident that Marc loves his Layla too.
So what we essentially have, is two men (alright, fine, two male identities in the same physical body, but still!) in love with the same woman (and her being in love with both of them too!) and it’s not even a problem! She’s not being painted into a corner where she has to choose, because she doesn’t have to! Layla doesn’t need to choose either Marc or Steven, she can have them both! Similarly, even though Marc loves his wife, he is completely okay with Steven falling in love with Layla.
It also shows, because in the following exchange,
Layla.
Marc.
Oh, baby.
Thank God you're okay. How did you get back?
-and here, Marc just let Steven front with easy access, Marc literally was like ‘hey Steven, I know you want to see her’ and Steven was probably like, ‘of course, lemme out!’-
Wow, you look amazing. What are you wearing? Hey, I'm really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.
All right, show me what you got.
Yeah?
Yeah.
I really hope Marc, Steven, and Layla return sometime in the future, because you can’t just setup Layla becoming the Scarlet Scarab and then not have her do anything later. Also? How cool would it be - knowing that Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab can now fly, with their cape and wings, respectively - if we got a scene where they’re both flying together 🥺
a/n: I was blessed with enough time and mental space from college to get this one together. softer than the usual vibes.
summary: after watching her husband get shot twice, Layla has a troubled relationship with guns.
tags: spectormobile is featured which means Jake is lurking but not addressed, Taweret the therapist friend
Guns make Layla see red. Simple as that, all that matters is the barrel of that damn thing and the swords of Taweret’s ceremonial suit - Layla’s suit - as she splits guns in half.
The cleanly cut pieces of a pistol sizzled on the ground beside her, burning orange. She swung the steel and gunpowder off her blades, and then faced the young woman who approached.
“Zayna.” she was the same civilian that Layla had flown to safety during the Battle of Cairo. Now she wore her brown hair in a bun, which only emphasized the cuts and bruises across her face. “Do you need help going home?”
Something inside her swelled with pride when the child shook her head no. “Thank you.”
“Good work today.” Layla offered a small smile, and spread her wings towards home.
After securing the perimeter of the apartment she shared with Marc and Steven, Layla descended onto the roof.
The suit melted into her regular clothes as she swung her legs over the edge and landed softly into the room.
Marc was still asleep in bed. His chest rose and fell with each breath. A spot at the back of Layla’s neck eased. He’s alive. They’re alive. But she had to hold him to make sure -
Layla hesitated, facing a massive silhouette that shifted in the dark. “I need to ask you a question, Layla.”
“What?”
She was not being condescending. Taweret sounded worried - if a bit curious in her own special way. She and Steven had that in common.
Taweret took an uneasy step and emerged from the shadows.
“What… What was your nightmare about?”
It was this exact same openness that raised her defenses against the goddess. “No. No nightmare.”
“Please don’t lie to me. You woke up in a cold sweat an hour ago. And then you pretended to be all right when you woke Marc up...”
“I am all right!” Layla snarled under her breath. When she blinked, the way that Marc staggered when Harrow shot once - and shot again - burned behind her eyes. Harrow’s gun made her see the red of her husband’s blood.
Taweret spoke firmly. Stood taller and more solidly. “They care about you - Marc and Steven. As do I. Instead of putting yourself in danger, perhaps you can talk to them.”
“Forget about it.” Layla aimed for an open gym bag and fished out a change of clothes. Taweret moved as if in protest. “No, seriously. Forget about it. It won’t happen again.”
--
The second time it happened, they were apart in London. Marc and Steven’s sleepwalking brought them as far as the outskirts of the city. Layla’s nightmare had placed her in Harrow’s position - shooting once, and then once more - with no remorse or hesitation. She woke up alone, and gathered her quickest contacts to find Steven Grant.
He was at an auto repair shop, caught in the crossfire of two brawling street gangs. Layla and her friends sent the gang members away.
One of them pulled out a handgun to be intimidating, but Layla had already swung her leg and kicked it away from his grip. Then another one of her friends pinned the gunman to the ground.
“You have a thing against guns?”
It was too easy to remember Marc, limp and dying as he fell back into the waters of that tomb.
Her jaw flexed. “It should be a last resort.”
The rest of them asked the mechanic about the white car with the SPKTR plate number.
“Were you shot?” Layla reached out towards Steven’s chest.
He accepted her touch with both hands, looking into her eyes in reassurance. “No, we’re all right. We’re okay, Layla.”
Her breath shuddered. She felt no bullet holes beneath her palm.
Steven studied her face. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
Layla saw the sharp glint in his eyes. Fuck.
One of her friends interrupted just in time. “Hey.”
She turned to see a single car key extended towards her. Layla lifted her gaze towards her friend’s face, confused.
“You’re still Mrs. Spector,” she cast a glance at Steven. Clueless. “Technically. So you can take care of the car.”
Layla took the key, mainly to throw off the questions she was too tired to answer. “Thanks for tonight.”
“Of course. And get some sleep, darling.”
She didn’t need to look to know that Steven was observing her.
--
The third time it happened, she was them. She did not balk at the remaining followers of Ammit as she glared over the barrel of that blasted gun towards Marc. Steven.
His stony expression did not break when he pulled the trigger.
There was no Harrow.
Layla’s breath caught in her bleeding throat. And when Marc shot her for a second time, she fell back into the hands of the Heka priest. It had survived the fall in the chasm with the singular intent of seeking revenge. Now it has.
The sound of crashing jolted Layla awake. In one swift motion, she rolled off of bed and lifted a gun towards the direction of the noise. The moon provided some visibility tonight.
“Bollocks!” Steven cursed under his breath.
Layla rose to her feet, keeping her gun raised. She found Steven in the kitchen trying to return the fallen empty box onto a tall stool.
His head lifted, sensing her presence. “Terribly sorry, love. I didn’t mean to- OH. I-I don’t think that’s necessary, Layla…”
She turned the safety back on. “What are you doing up?”
“Wanted some water.” Steven fidgeted with his fingers sheepishly. “Marc’s also here. Did you have a nightmare again?”
“Again?”
Steven’s mouth was drawn in a line as he prepared a glass of water for her. “I can’t watch you in pain, Layla. We won’t. We handle it together, right?”
After he gave her the glass, he braced his hands on the counter and fell silent. Layla found herself feeling grateful for whatever Marc was telling him that allowed her the silence to think. How obvious had she been?
“Your hands gave you away.” Marc. “At first, I thought you were just into my tits. Steven called bullshit.”
Layla rolled her eyes, even as the corners of her lips lifted slightly. Marc smiled fondly at the sight.
“Ever since Harrow, you checked for bullet wounds first.” he patted his chest with a palm. “On us, and on yourself. You only use guns when there is no other choice. But everytime, you look like you’re going to be sick. No wonder you practiced throwing the swords.”
Her shoulders slackened. She crossed the floor towards him, placing the gun in his waiting hand.
Marc did not look away from her face. Layla weakly punched the center of his chest, then flattened her hands against him. It was just his shirt. No bullet holes.
Their foreheads pressed together. They’re alive. They survived.
Layla’s voice was quiet. “Yasmin and Ahmed wants to know Uncle Marc better. I didn’t know how to tell them that you…” she gulped, brows furrowed together. “if you hadn’t come back. Both of you. Taweret said she brought my father to the Field of Reeds. I told myself I’ll ask about you after everything is done. Make sure you were alright.”
A moment of hesitation, followed by their hands running up and down her arms.
“All it took was a simple. Little. Gun.”
Steven lifted a finger to wipe a tear from her cheek, and then cradled the side of her neck. “We love you.”
Layla’s face crumbled. She buried her face into his shoulder. Somehow, the hand against the back of her head reminded her of Steven’s gentleness, and the arm around her waist had a solidity that only Marc could possibly have.
That was it: she loved them. She grew more keen about sniper positions and reload speed to protect them. She preferred close combat where she could reach the opponent in a shorter time. She loved Marc and Steven, loved the goodness and strength they inspired in her when they were all together.
She returned the embrace tightly. He knew. They both do.
That night, their hands were joined atop his chest. Layla breathed more deeply, more comfortably, as she slept.
Fandom; Moon Knight
Title; Family
Pairings; Steven/Layla, Marc/Khonshu, Jake/Frenchie
Rating; G
Summary; No matter where they went, they were a spectacle. Loud and happy, yelling and screaming at each other. They took life how it came and made the best out of it.
AO3 can be found here
Written for Yolkies birthday <3
