Fitting In || Morgan & Marcus
TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @emptytownes & @mor-beck-more-problems
SUMMARY: Two very normal people trying on clothes very normally because they’re definitely not dead.
CONTAINS: anxious zombies and snarky ghosts
The last thing Morgan needed at this time of her life was an impromptu shopping trip. But her arm hadn’t healed right, no matter how much she ate, and a tumble on the ice had only made it worse, and nothing in her closet accommodated her awful patch job or the new shade of discoloration she’d gained. So, July splurge on winter gear.
She made herself as small as she could as she shouldered her way into the thrift store, hiding in a hoodie and sweats. She took off one of her winter gloves. Most of the makeup she’d slapped on had already rubbed off. The dark ends of her fingertips were plain as anything and the purple-yellow marble splotched across her blue-white skin showed through in broad streaks. The stars alone knew what had happened to her face in the snow. She wasn’t about to check for herself.
Menswear would have the safest bet for baggy clothes that covered her all the way. Morgan made a beeline for the section, so focused on keeping her head down she didn’t look for other people’s feet and walked into someone. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and started looking for a big wooly coat.
After all that time on the “Internet,” Marcus couldn’t understand why everyone raved about how useful that thing was. No one gave any useful advice on where he could buy a nice hat, and now that it was snowing, he definitely needed to fix up this closet he inherited. Seriously, why the hell did this guy own so many boring clothes? Thank fuck there were stores that were within walking distance that he could visit. Now that he was in a physical body, he had forgotten how much energy it took to do things. Being human was strange.
What was even stranger, though, was this weather. Snow in the summer? White Crest was weird as fuck, he knew that much, but this was new. He never liked the cold so Marcus ducked into the first store he came across, a thrift store. The smell hit his nose right away, causing his nose to scrunch up. He missed some things from being a ghost, like not smelling thrift stores. Whatever, he decided, as he walked over towards the men’s wear. His hands pushed past jackets dismissively, nothing really catching his eye.
He was about to move into the next row when someone bumped right into him. “Hey,” he called out with a frown. But when he glanced up, his eyes caught sight of a very familiar face. It had been a while since he had seen Morgan, well, at least since before he fully took ownership of this body. Something seemed a little off with her though. Without thinking, Marcus leaned in towards her, his face silently tilting to one side as he studied her. “Mor-! I mean. Morning. Yea, morning. It’s cold out, yea?” he quickly caught himself with a crooked smile as he finally pulled back.
Morgan stiffened at the man’s response. It sounded an awful lot like someone saying her name. She lifted her head just enough to get a glance at his face, but didn’t recognize him at all. Maybe they’d met in passing on campus? Maybe she was just being paranoid? “Hey,” she said quickly, trying to hide her face with a duck of her head. “Morning. Yeah. It’s pretty wild, almost as much as the kids I saw making a snowman. One of them was tied to a tree like a leash so she wouldn’t float away.” She flicked through the rack closest to her faster, finding nothing she trusted to cover her and look winter-in-July appropriate. She looked at the rack above and, of course, that’s where all the parkas were. She got on her tiptoes and tried to pull one off, but all she managed to do was rock everything next to it and knock off a puffer vest she had no use for. Shit.
“Uh…do you think you could give me a hand? I kinda…” She reached up again, making her hood fall. For a terrible instant, her deathly pallid forehead was visible. Morgan grabbed it back, flashing a brief, desperate smile before trying to make herself small again. “Just the two long parkas? Please?”
It’s just Morgan, Marcus thought. Probably one of the safest people for him to out himself to about this whole situation. But at the same time, death and life were really weird and complicated things for beings who have a weird and complicated relationship with those things. Probably safer for the time being that Marcus kept that to himself.
“Wild, right? Snow at this time of the year? And what’s with all the flying? I mean I miss it but--” he cut himself off mid-sentence. Humans didn’t fly, he knew that, obviously. “I mean like in those things that fly in the sky. I miss flying in those things, not like what everyone is doing right now, floating like it’s free real estate up there,” he continued as he mindlessly pushed past another jacket that he didn’t even bother looking at. Looking up, Marcus missed the way Morgan slunk down after pointing to the parkas above. “Those things? Really? You want those?” he asked with a frown. Still, he reached up and grabbed ahold of the parkas and brought them down. “They don’t look very nice. Kinda frumpy and gross, really. You could do better than these.”
“--Do you mean airplanes? Are you looking for the word airplane? Or like, a hang-glider?” Morgan asked, confused. “You know there’s nothing stopping you from doing that, right? Except for maybe bad weather conditions, but this snow won’t last forever. Nothing does here.” She needed to stop making small talk. It was a nice distraction from her situation, but the longer she stayed, the more she risked exposing her walking corpse status or decaying even more in public.
But she wasn’t about to take a jab at her clothing choices laying down. “Air pockets are essential for staying warm in the cold! You don’t actually want anything skin tight at all. And I happen to like…” she looked at one of the coats before shouldering into it. It was, admittedly, one of the uglier shades of brown she’d ever seen. “Earthtones. They’re nice!” She looked at the other coat, fire engine red. “And red is great for being visible!” As she zipped up, she realized the brown was too oversize and would barely stay on her frame at all. “Who made you a fashion expert anyway?”
“Planes!” he repeated excitedly, snapping his fingers at her. Though Marcus was now intrigued by hang-gliders, whatever those were. It sounded fun! But also planes which he never got a chance to experience either. How did people go about getting on them? How did they fly and stay in the air? No idea. Science was for nerds anyways. He just wanted to be there for the ride. “Nothing lasts forever…” he echoed slowly with a nod. “Some things sure feel like an eternity, though.” Maybe he should stop talking about forever and things of that sort. “Sure but it’s not like flying like the way everyone else is right now. Kinda jealous, really.”
“It’s an ugly shade of poo-brown, ma’am,” he responded with a raised brow. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the rack and watched Morgan drape on the parka. It looked massive on her and incredibly ill-fitting. “And that one is a hazard warning if you’d like to be a stop sign or something.” He sighed, pushing off from the rack and actually began to look for something decent for once. “Nothing here is great but, here, at least this one won’t make you look like a walking circus tent.” Pulling out a long, tan coat with some black detailing, he handed it over to the zombie. Hell, if this wasn’t someone he had liked so much, he would have tried to take the coat for himself.
Morgan laughed dryly as she wriggled out of the ugly coat. “Very funny. I can admit this one isn’t the most ideal earthtone, but I happen to like warm colors too.” Not in that shade. And not recently. But she had when she was alive. And maybe when the whirlwind winter went away and she figured out what was going wrong with her body, she would try them again. “And you know, ‘feels like’ and ‘are’? Two really different things. The DMV feels like an eternity, but it’s got nothing on--” Literally never sleeping again forever. “Insomnia. That, my friend, is a long time.”
She took the coat from him all the same and quickly tried it on. It actually stayed on her body, and there was a belt to help keep it secure and, yeah, define her waist and make it a little cuter when she pulled it tight. Not bad, actually. And with the hood, and the hand coverings, maybe she wouldn’t need to wrap herself up so much to look less conspicuous. “Why are you jealous anyway? Did you read too much Peter Pan or comic books as a kid? And there’s no reason it won’t happen to you. You should try walking over some place where a lot of floating is going on. Maybe you’ll get lucky. Just don’t get stuck in a tree. Or a light pole. Or the telephone wires.” As she spoke, smirking, it occurred to her that she was falling into some kind of familiar rhythm. It wasn’t just generic small talk, but she couldn’t put her finger on the specific thing. She turned to the strangely familiar man. “How’s this? Better?”
“Warm colors? Like fire-screaming red? I’m not gonna stop you from wearing the stop sign but I’m saying it’s gonna turn heads and maybe not in the way you want. ‘Ma’am, may I move my car now?’ is what people will be saying to you,” Marcus laughed, finding his own joke amusing. At the very least, he did take the parkas from Morgan and tossed them back onto the rack. Someone else’s problem now. The DMV. He didn’t know what that was… and there weren’t enough context clues to piece that together. “Oh, gods, I love sleep so much. You’re right; not being able to sleep does make everyday stretch forever. Never ending…” he trailed quietly, losing his enthusiasm for a small second at the thought. The days used to slip past so easily and years had gone by without him realizing. So much had changed in his death while he remained stagnant for so long.
“Flying’s the best. I mean, it sounds like the best. Walking is boring and so slow,” he groaned. Being alive again sure had its perks but the convenience of being able to fly and float and phase through things? Nothing compared. “I uh I never read much as a kid actually. Couldn’t afford to.” Marcus shrugged lightly, plucking a brightly colored scarf with peacock feather patterns. “Hey, if I figure out how to fly, I won’t get stuck like those losers out there. It’s all in the technique.” Immediately, he began to push his arms forward in breaststroke-like manners, the scarf still clutched in his hand. “Oh, far better. You look neither like a traffic sign or a pile of crap. You’re very welcome,” he smirked with a small bow.
Talking with this guy was almost enough to make Morgan forget how miserable and desperate she was. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the state of her skin to be disturbed by her. If anything, he was becoming strangely at ease for someone she’d just met. She thought there was something about the way the man weighted his words. Something that went beyond a normie using hyperbole in a way that sometimes made her want to squeeze their brains. Flying, never sleeping, little things that she couldn’t really piece together, and his sense of humor.
“Couldn’t afford to…?” She asked carefully. It wasn’t really a casual conversation sort of topic, but she was curious. “It’s never too late, you know. Stories are for everyone.” She pulled back the parka hood just a little, trying to catch his eyes without showing too much of her face. “You’re pretty confident for someone who’s never done it before. Maybe it’s harder than it looks. Maybe some ten year old will have to help you off a roof somewhere.” She smirked, only wincing when she felt her lips crack. “This might be almost as embarrassing as that scarf you’re holding, but do I know you from somewhere?”
The more Marcus fiddled with this scarf, the more he liked it. Finally, fashion! Immediately, he wrapped it around his neck to free his hands. And it was perfect for this absurd weather. It wasn’t the coat that Morgan was wearing but still a rare find nonetheless. Plus, it was kinda nice to run into a familiar friend and chat it up like they used to.
“Nah. Family was dirt poor.” He wasn’t ashamed of his roots but he hated the way people used to look at him, like he was lesser than just because he was dirty or didn’t have any money. It always came down to that, didn’t it? Money. The only way to change all of that was to get more of it. He raised a brow again at Morgan. Him? No experience in flying? A playful scoff came from his lips as he placed his hands on his hips. “I’d out-fly any damn kid out there!” His smile didn’t last too long when Morgan posed her question. “Ye--Actually, nah, first I’ve ever seen you,” he lied. He didn’t like that, lying to a friend, but how the hell was he supposed to explain that he was a ghost and now he wasn’t a ghost anymore? “And this scarf is the height of fashion! Excuse you, miss almost-bought-an-ugly-parka.”
Yes--but also maybe no. How...completely unhelpful. Morgan thought she was pretty good with faces and voices; she’d be able to place if they’d crossed paths. But she couldn’t. And yet she was sure she’d heard the guy almost say yes, he did know her. But then, with how much she was hiding herself, maybe he couldn’t really be sure. She let out an uneasy laugh and ripped the price tag off the coat so she could wear it out, no more fuss, no more risk of revealing what she had become. “Maybe it was the height of fashion during the wrong side of the 70’s, but right now it’s just going to get you a bad double take. And maybe a headache, if you look at it too long. But, you should call me Morgan, actually, Ugly Scarf Man.”
“If the scarf can strike a statement and cause people to think they’re high, then what more can anyone ask for,” Marcus pointed out with a smug expression as he fluffed up the scarf around his neck. With enough distraction and misdirection, there was no way Morgan could ever figure out who he was. It was going perfectly. So smooth. Like butter. This time, he had the mental clearance to catch himself before responding. “And here I was ready to commit you to memory as miss almost-bought-an-ugly-parka, Morgan. Name’s Marcus.” That was his name now right? “Make another dig at my fabulous scarf and I’m gonna take that coat right back,” he threatened playfully.
“Marcus, huh?” Morgan said. “Well, Marcus with the acid trip scarf, you have made a really shitty day a lot less so. And maybe when I am not buried in a giant but fashionable parka, we will make friends under much better circumstances. Although--” She took a moment to scope around the lower shelves in the store and peer around the upper ones without showing him her face. Finding something she liked, she scurried over to pick them and bring the prizes over to Marcus. “If I’m going to follow your fashion advice, then you have to take these. This green plaid scarf is way more your color and will get you the good kinds of double takes, especially when you pair it with this beanie, or this newsboy cap. Never goes out of style.” She couldn’t see his face with her head down, but she hoped he’d at least humor her by buying them.
Marcus gave a beaming smile in response, incredibly proud of himself for brightening Morgan’s day. It didn’t even cross his mind that she was going through something difficult. Besides, who wouldn’t have a better day with him around? “We’re already friends,” he blurted out. “From now, I mean. This whole me-helping-you-with-the coat thing means we’re friends.” Easy clarification fix. His eyes narrowed at the green scarf and the cap. Taking the cap first, he secured it on his head, found the closest mirror, and you know what? He didn’t hate it. “Nice job, Morgan. You have some fashion sense after all.” The green scarf, though, he took that and held it up, nose scrunched as he considered it. “What if I like turning heads, hm? Or even better,” he said, wrapping this scarf around his neck as well and quickly adjusting everything so both garments were visible, “compromise!”
Morgan could only see the dangling tails from her position and she didn’t dare flashing him her decaying face. “Yeah! It looks--well, I bet it’s great!” She started to shuffle away, only to knock into another rack. And then a person. “Sorry!” She called. Right. Walking backwards without very literally looking where she was going. Not her brightest idea. But she didn’t really have a better one. “I’m glad I could help though!” She called to Marcus. “I’ll see you a--aah!” She stepped on another person and this time she was pushed away she fell, flat on her back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that so hard,” the woman she’d run into said, “But you really should look where you’re--” She didn’t finish her sentence either. She was too busy gaping at dead, mottled face. Morgan staggered to her feet, not even bothering with the parka hood again. Yep. Definitely time to go.
“I mean, everything looks great on me,” Marcus beamed, hands placed triumphantly on his waist. The double scarves situation did make him warm but he was sure it’d work out just fine outside. He was so busy admiring his own reflection too with all the new accessories, that he turned too late as Morgan fell. Only then did he fully register the way she looked.
“Ay hey hey,” Marcus sang, easily slipping between his friend and the other woman. “It’s a tight space in here, and people are on edge from the snow and the flying and whatever. You know, they’ve got some great parkas in here, a delightful brown one and a very bright red one. You’d look great in either of those.” The rambling should be a decent distraction to give Morgan time to fix herself up. It seemed to work since the woman now was frowning at the man who was excitedly pitching every article of clothing. And he continued to sing praises that everything in there would absolutely shine on her while simultaneously backing both him and Morgan slowly toward the exit. “And they’ve got great scarves too!” he shouted. One hand on the door and he pushed the two of them out.
“Whoo! Just me or did it get colder out here?” Marcus exclaimed as he wrapped the scarves tighter around his neck.
The last thing Morgan expected was for Marcus to come to her rescue as if he knew, as if he understood. They’d just met and he hadn’t seemed to notice anything about her before. Was he something too? Some shifter with a good heart, or a renegade fae? Her mind spun like a top trying to figure him out. At least with his handiwork, they left the shop without paying and without anyone minding.
Morgan flexed her bare hand in the cold. She didn’t feel the cold as keenly as everything else, but there was a little more bite and the snow felt a little heavier as it blew onto her fingers. “Uh...yeah. I think it did. Maybe we’ll actually have a real blizzard. That’d be kind of funny and--” She just had to know. “Why’d you do that? Help me back there? You--” She looked him square in the eye. “For a human, you aren’t as scared of me as I figured you’d be.”
The snow was stil so fucking weird to see and the cold was even stranger to experience after over 100 years of not feeling any sort of temperature. Marcus scrunched his nose as he let out a breath, an amused giggle quickly followed as the breath floated up towards the sky. Turning towards Morgan, he gave a small nonchalant shrug. “And leave you there to freak that woman out? I mean that would have been hilarious but you also gave us the best cover for walking straight outta there with these babies,” he smirked with a wink as he affectionately petted his scarves. “And I’ve seen a lotta shit in my time. More than that woman obviously. You do look like you’re going through some shit but hey, that’s none of my business and it was definitely none of hers.”
Morgan stared at Marcus, completely stupefied. “R-right.” And he was right. She’d needed his help, there he was, and they were both a little better off for it. It made sense. It just also...wasn’t what she’d come to expect from a normie, or even a good swath of in-the-know humans. He didn’t bat an eye at her, even with her bad lying and strange behavior and the white street lights lighting up her features in the worst way. It rolled off him like nothing. All he seemed to care about was being kind and enjoying himself. Why was that strange? Since when did she become so suspicious of kindness from strangers? “I won’t ask you to show your cards or anything, but...I really appreciate that Marcus. Not every stranger takes all this with so much...well, chill.” She laughed at her own joke and smiled at him for the first time. “I really do hope I’ll see you around.” She gave him one last look before turning to go, crunching through the snow one careful step at a time. With the help of the parka he’d helped her pick, she melted into the shadows. There was only the prickly kiss of snow, the cold, and the painful throbbing in her back that she was determined to ignore.
Maybe he should come clean with all of this, or at least with why he was so nonchalant about all of this. Then again, Marcus knew sometimes it was smarter to wait things out until he was sure his path to success was clear. Morgan was a friend and all but considering even he didn’t have the full picture of his circumstances, he knew enough to keep that quiet until he learned more. “You too. Though, uh you probably should…” His hands pulled up an invisible hood over his own head before pointing a finger to Morgan’s. “And uh we should definitely leave. Best to split. The people inside seem to have noticed that we gave ourselves the five-finger discount.” As the zombie left, Marcus waved a hand goodbye, his gaze lingering for just a moment. It was nice to have a friend again. But that thought quickly dissipated when he heard the store door open. “Oop, gotta run,” he muttered to himself as he quickly skedaddled down the snowy streets.