pocketpretzels | MHA #15, then #MHA 14, Saturday Morning

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MHA #15, then #MHA 14, Saturday Morning

Last night had been pleasant, if excessively glittery. Following the dance, Watts and Steven had checked in to the hotel and-

... Promptly fallen asleep. What?

Now it was morning, though, and the first hints of consciousness were beginning to filter through Watts's mind.

"Mrrph," he rolled over, instinctively reaching for where Steven ought to be. Except there was nobody there. Still mostly asleep, Watts started to dismiss that as oh, well, clearly Steven woke up first and is over by the desk making terrible hotel coffee-

"Steven woke up first"? Yeah, no. Steven was even less of a morning person than Watts himself was. Something was definitely wrong. Starting with the fact that this wasn't a hotel room at all, but his old apartment. Now fully awake- and concerned- Watts got dressed and started to look around in an effort to figure out just what the hell had gone on here.

His first stop was his mobile phone on the nightstand, which looked... older? He squinted at it, and then sighed and grabbed his glasses (which unlike his actual current phone had survived the transition) and squinted at it again: 2022-07-30, read the date.

"Twenty years," he muttered. "Criminy." That would place them at- what, a few months after they'd both arrived in Fandom? Maybe a month after they'd started dating? The lack of decoration in his apartment more or less confirmed the timing. Though he still wanted to know where the hell Steven had ended up, if not with him.

First stop? Across the hall, to Steven and Marc's apartment. Muscle memory had him fishing out his keyring even though they'd not lived in Fandom for years, but of course the key wasn't on the ring: they wouldn't be exchanging those for some time yet. So, knocking it was.

[ooc: for thems that live there! that watts headed over to visit is fine for broadcast, details of conversation NFB please.]

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Of course what had actually happened last night was that Llewellyn and Steven had gone home and, since Steven's flat was the first door they came to in the corridor, it only made sense for them to go in there first and -

... promptly fall asleep. What?

Thus it was still 2022 Steven who woke up that morning to find himself alone. He sat up, confused. The bathroom door was open so that ruled out Llewellyn being in there.

"Llew?" he called, in case Llewellyn had gone into the kitchen to start coffee or some such. When there was no reply Steven got out of bed, which was when he noticed that Llewellyn's clothes were nowhere to be seen either.

This got Steven worried. Perhaps Llewellyn hadn't been able to shake his discomfort at the idea of being discovered and had crept out during the night without waking Steven? Which Steven would understand, of course. He knew Llewellyn needed time. But surely Llewellyn would have left a note or -

Oh of course, a text. Steven went to check his phone only just then came a knock at the door. Then Steven felt silly twice over. After last time Llewellyn must have taken it upon himself to be a dear and gone out and gotten breakfast for them both. Steven abandoned his phone, unchecked, quickly threw on some sweats and a T-shirt, and went to the door. He was so certain it must be Llewellyn he didn't even check, opening it straight away.

"Morning y - " Steven stopped. Llewellyn looked different. "... you?"

Llewellyn looked different?

Steven looked different. Younger. Almost like-

"Oh, no."

Steven stepped back to allow Llewellyn to come inside without thinking about it. The reason why he wasn't thinking about it was that regardless of Llewellyn seeming older as a concept, he had facial hair. That took time to grow. Time Steven was completely unaware of.

"H-how - how long?" Steven asked. He didn't want to know but he had to know. "How much time?"

Twenty years, give or take, but Watts was well familiar with that question said in that particular tone, and besides that this time it was Fandom's fault entirely, so he absolutely wasn't going to lead with that.

"Why don't we sit down, hm?" he asked, already reaching for Steven's shoulder to guide him over to the couch.

In what was definitely an unusual gesture for any form of Steven that Llewellyn knew, Steven held up a hand to forestall any contact. He did step back towards the living room, however, because sitting down was probably wise regardless.

"How much time?" Steven snapped. Because he hadn't looked at his phone or even himself so if Lewellyn was older that meant Steven was older and he didn't know when that happened.

Watts sighed. Fandom had played its tricks on both of them (and Marc) over the last two decades, when they'd been living here and occasionally even after they'd left. But this Steven hadn't been here long enough to become accustomed to that. And this particular trick was a new one for both of them.

"It isn't what you think," he said, though he suspected Steven wouldn't hear that part. Likely he'd focus on the next bit. Which he didn't want to say, but there was naught to do now but rip off the metaphorical band-aid: "But it's been twenty years. For me." He somehow doubted those last two words would register completely either.

Edited 2022-07-30 18:05 (UTC)

Steven heard the words, he did, but the only context he had for them was his life before Fandom. If Steven had lost time then of course it was twenty years for Llewellyn and not for him. Same as how for other people it had been days, or weeks. But never - twenty years?

"No. No no no no no - " Steven started breathing faster. He didn't make it to the couch, instead falling to his knees there on the floor. He pressed his hands to his head as though somehow that might keep the chaos of his thoughts inside. "No, no. I didn't. I can't - "

And this- this was exactly what Watts had wanted to avoid.

He followed him down to the floor, crouching close but not crowding. "Steven, darling, listen- you haven't lost any time," he pleaded, trying to head off what he was sure was coming.

It was a noble goal and would've worked in lesser circumstances. But this wasn't lesser circumstances. In less than a blink Marc had taken over. Which probably would've been easy for nearly anybody to tell given that the visible result was all signs of panic instantly disappearing to be replaced by Marc's harder, more assessing look.

The latter of which he was aiming at Watts. On the plus side, he was better equipped to handle these kinds of things than Steven was. "This some island bullshit?"

“Good morning, Marc,” Watts said, not missing a beat. “As always, your assessment is both succinct and accurate.”

Marc stood up and took stock of things. No sign of Steven in any reflections, which wasn't surprising. Steven felt as gone as he could be. Still Marc had to check. Next was everything around them. No changes. Even the fish were alive, with Marc's post-it to Steven still on the tank. On top of everything else, he didn't have Konshu in his ear bitching at him about things he needed to take care of.

Right. So all signs pointed to no changes on his end. Which left the person standing in front of him.

"What happened?" Marc asked. Meaning to Watts, in general, whatever. Look, Marc had dealt with five years of half the universe vanishing and then the day when they all came back. It took a lot more than an older looking Watts to throw him.

“We arrived on the island last night for what was supposed to be a reunion- Steven and I attended the dance last night, retired to the hotel, and then… I woke up in my former apartment. Alone. Twenty years in the past,” Watts explained. “I don’t know why or how beyond, as you say, ‘some island bullshit’.”

There were a few things to unpack there but Marc had priorities. "Wait, so where's current you? The guy who was here with Steven last night?"

Because if that Watts was in danger or missing, that was the next priority now that Steven was - well not taken care of, but safe for now.

“I’m- not sure,” Watts admitted. And really, this ought to bother him, but after years of Fandom’s weirdness, one couldn’t help but acclimate. “This is the first time this has happened, but there have been- similar- incidents. Generally after the weekend everyone affected is returned safe and sound.”

"Right. Wait here," Marc told him. He went into the bedroom and grabbed his phone from where Steven had left it. He quickly sent off a couple of texts, then dialed Watts's number as he walked back into the living room.

Watts’s mobile phone- his past self’s device, anyway- obligingly rang, and he fished it out of his suit pocket and hit the ‘answer call’ button, raising an eyebrow questioningly at Marc as he did so.

"That answers that," Marc said. He hung up, which was when he saw that Nell had texted him back. He quickly sent off a reply and then put his phone aside. "Looks like you're not the only one. No offense but this better wear off."

Marc didn't even want to think about what it was going to do to Steven if it didn't.

“No offense taken,” Watts said. “As much as I enjoyed my time here, I want to be able to return to my current life.” Not to mention his own version of Steven. And yes, even you, Marc.

Marc was going to reply when Liz called him back. He quickly checked in with her then returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"It's too damn early for a drink," he said, being generally annoyed at the universe about that one. There was still a lot to unpack here but he wasn't going to do it without something in his system, so he headed towards the kitchen. "Coffee?"

“Please,” Watts said, following Marc into the kitchen and pulling two mugs from the cupboard with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent a lot of time in this apartment over the ~~mumblemumble number of~~ years.

Marc definitely made note of that as he got a pot of coffee going. It led nicely into the other things that had been put on hold while he triaged. "Twenty years?"

Could Marc have added more words to that? Yes. Did he ever learn to do so? No.

That just meant it was familiar! Which was honestly kind of reassuring in a weird way.

"Twenty years," Watts echoed. "In which we've managed to build rather a nice life."

Yes, that 'we' meant himself and Steven. But also Marc- and someone else, actually- was included in that as well. Though that wasn't a bomb he wanted to drop right away. Maybe in a few minutes.

Edited 2022-07-31 01:07 (UTC)

Coffee brewing, Marc started pulling out what was needed for bagels (Fandom based, so really "bagels" but what could you do?) and lox for breakfast. If Watts wanted something else - well he was familiar with the kitchen. He could go nuts.

And on the topic of why he was familiar with the kitchen, "Twenty years with Steven?" Because yes, Marc had clocked that detail but put it on the back burner until he could breathe.

... Yeah, Watts was just going to go straight for the (cold, sigh, thanks ever so for that, John Harvey Kellogg) cereal, rummaging around the fridge for the carton of non-dairy milk to accompany it.

"Yes," he replied. "Does that surprise you?"

"I'm wondering when I took you off probation," Marc replied, his comment more idle curiosity than accusation. Not that he'd ever told present day version of Watts he'd been on probation regarding Marc allowing him around Steven. But after their first (and to date only) meeting Marc felt it'd been heavily implied.

Yeah, he'd picked up what Marc had been putting down there, to use one of the many phrases he'd, ah, picked up, over the years.

"It took a while," Watts said, with a wry smile as he recalled those early days. "But you did warm up to me."

"I warm up to people?" Marc replied, dry as the bagel he took out of the toaster. In truth he wondered if it was this very weekend which did it. Proof that Watts really would stick around in spite of it all - and Marc himself was only one item on that list - wasn't nothing. Marc was Marc, though, so he had to ask, "Is he okay?"

"Yes," Watts said, his expression turning fond. "He's more than okay. He's happy. A significant part of that is owed to the fact that you are too," he said pointedly.

The coffee was ready so Marc got to pouring. He snorted at Watts's comment. "Well now I know you're full of shit. But good try."

Watts rolled his eyes. "I most assuredly am not. Me and Steven, you and Layla. As I said, we've built a nice life."

Okay now Marc was shooting him a look. "That's not even funny."

"It's not meant to be," he sighed, not at all cowed by that look. "I suppose I ought to have known you'd react like this."

Okay, this was clearly some multiverse type bullshit. Some version of Watts from some other planet or timeline, same as all the other people from similar worlds but not exactly. Nothing that applied to Marc.

"And you know me so well," Marc replied, the sarcasm almost thick enough to be tangible. Because come on.

"I've picked up a thing or two about you in the intervening years beyond 'Cubs fan', yes," Watts said, around a mouthful of cereal. "Such as the real reason you first struck a deal with Konshu. Not to save yourself, but to save Steven."

Well shit. Marc hadn't even told Steven that. In fact he never planned to. Which did raise the next question: "Does Steven know?"

"Yes," Watts said. "There was- well, it was a bit of an emergency, it came up."

"When isn't there?" Marc muttered, meaning it for both his life and general and the way of things back home. Which was why it wasn't worth it to even ask what the emergency had been. There was always some bullshit.

He gave Watts a long, assessing look. "Congrats I guess. Not that knowing me's a prize."

In general or to that level of detail, frankly, by Marc's way of thinking. But apparently some version of him trusted Watts with it. Which spoke volumes about how much this guy was good for Steven since that was the only way Marc would've let it happen.

"Fairly certain the majority of the Toronto Constabulary would have said the same about me, once upon a time," Watts pointed out.

The only reason they didn't now is because he'd never actually gone back for more than brief visits after settling in Fandom. "Prize or not, you're family."

There seemed to be a resonance with those words beyond the sentiment. He tried to see if Watts was wearing a wedding ring. "You and Steven...?"

Watts held up his left hand so Marc could see that indeed there was a simple gold band on his ring finger.

"The legality of it is, of course..." he wiggled his other hand in a 'so-so' motion. Given that Marc was the one on all the non-forged paperwork and Watts himself came from another reality and time entirely, and all. "But the important part is that we stood before God and our friends and made that commitment, yes."

Something inside Marc relaxed at that. Sure this might be some weird multiverse thing and not a vision of Steven's actual future. But it was still a Steven. Having the life he deserved. There wasn't much that made Marc happy, but that was really fucking high on the list.

"Mazel tov," he told Watts, and meant it. He smirked. "I can guess which god it wasn't."

Wait. If Layla was still around - and Marc was purposefully not dwelling on the implications of that - that could only mean one thing.

"The hippo insisted on helping with the decorations, didn't she?"

"Did she ever," Watts said with a shake of his head. Of course it had all been relayed via Layla but Taweret had had no shortage of Opinions.

"Better you than me," Marc said. As though Layla wasn't guaranteed an invite to any wedding of Steven's regardless of her relationship status with Marc. And again: purposefully sailing right past the implications of what that status was. Also ignoring how much they weren't implications so much as Watts flat out saying them.

Marc brushed off the last crumbs of his breakfast into the sink. "Living room? May as well sit while you keep telling me about the ghosts of Hanukkah future."

“All right,” Watts agreed, rinsing out his own bowl once Marc was finished at the sink. There were of course things he couldn’t- and wouldn’t- mention but no sense bringing that up unless forced to.

Much as in their - for Watts first, for Marc only - meeting, Marc took the side chair and left the couch for Watts. Casually, he asked, "So he likes that mustache?"

Not the sort of question he expected; and certainly not going to break the timeline to answer.

“He’s no complaints.”

"Not the same thing as a yes," Marc told him. Helpfully. Because future Steven or not, Marc was pretty sure about this one.

Goddamnit, Marc, you were going to give him a complex here. Because now he was just going to reach up and touch said moustache and frown thoughtfully.

Friends told each other the truth, right? Not that Marc knew a lot about friends. Or truth telling.

Meanwhile there were the other details to parse out. Not that Marc was losing sleep over anything necessarily, but if it affected Steven it was at least worth knowing the possibilities. "Hotel. You don't live here."

"Not for a number of years, no," Watts confirmed. "There was an- opportunity- in London, some time ago. To do a lot of good. So, we made the mutual decision to return there. Well," he amended. "The two of you returned. And I accompanied you." Yeah, Marc could've probably figured that one out, but pedant's gonna pedant.

The wording did give Marc the mental image of Watts following Steven like an eager puppy, but that'd pretty much been the start of Watts and Steven's relationship so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Konshu?"

Watts hadn't dismissed the mention of him still being around earlier so Marc could guess the answer, but it was Konshu so didn't hurt to check.

The expression on Watts’s face probably answered that well enough.

“Still around. Still irritating.” Even without having to interact with him directly! That was talent.

"At least he's not bothering anybody else," Marc said. That was part of the deal, after all. Why he and Steven took it up again. Not just taking care of Ammit, but to keep the avatar job so Konshu didn't find someone else to do his bidding. Someone who wouldn't mind being as vicious and cruel as Konshu wanted them to be.

It was exhausting to think of decades more of that. But maybe there was a bright side. "He must be so fucking sick of Steven."

Said with pride in Steven, of course.

Why Konshu had been so willing to re-sign the two of them was one of those verboten topics, of course, but Steven annoying Konshu? A constant and thus fair game.

“The old bird hasn’t got nerves as I understand it, yet Steven’s done a remarkable job of getting on every single one of them regardless.” Also proud, yes.

And didn't it work out so well that the verboten topic himself was the very thing making sure neither Marc nor Steven even knew to ask about him?

For Marc's part he was happy to move on from talking about Konshu. It wasn't a sure thing but sometimes if you mentioned him enough he showed up to remind you why you shouldn't.

But that left the hippo adjacent topic in the room and Marc wasn't going to ask about Layla. It was bullshit to think she would be with him and happy, no matter what this version of Watts tried to claim. Entertaining the idea was nothing but an exercise in delusion, which normally defined Marc's whole life but some things were too painful.

At which point Marc noticed a flicker of movement in the reflection on the television. Marc bit down a sigh, because of course Steven woke up for this. Him and his fucking empathy.

"It's fine," Marc told him. Steven wasn't fully there enough for replies but that didn't matter for him being able to hear. "We're good."

Watts followed Marc’s gaze over to the television, where he saw- well, he saw Marc’s reflection, but he knew from experience Marc would be seeing something different.

And then Marc spoke aloud and confirmed as much, and some of the tightness in Watts’s chest eased, his posture relaxed slightly.

Marc caught Watts's reaction but he kept his focus on Steven.

"Liz says two days," Marc told him. He knew Steven would trust Liz as a source. "Everything will be back to normal on Monday. Well, normal for this place."

Steven looked uncertainly between Marc and Watts. You're all right.

"We're fine," Marc told him. Though he left it open for Watts to answer for himself if he wanted. If this guy had spent as much time around Steven as all that, this kind of conversation couldn't be weird.

"Right as can be, considering," Watts agreed. No, he hadn't heard the question, but Marc's answer was clue enough as to what it was.

Edited 2022-08-01 00:27 (UTC)

Well, that answered how much this version of Watts was used to their situation. Marc was, of course, ignoring how much it reminded him of how Layla had picked up the trick of filling in the blanks, and talking to both of them even if only one was in charge of the body at the time.

"We've got it," Marc said. Then, no offense to this Watts but this was the way things worked around here, "I've got it. I'll let you know if there's anything to worry about. Take a breather."

Steven looked uncertain. Which hey, Steven was smart enough to know that Marc might tell him if there was something to worry about only after it was no longer a worry. But still. It was enough to get Steven to nod and the reflection to go back to Marc again.

Marc rubbed the bridge of his nose. When this was all over he was getting a fucking drink.

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MHA #15, then #MHA 14, Saturday Morning

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