concoursec | Settling In

Entry tags:

Settling In

Characters: Thatch and Marco
Location: Thatch's Room
Rating: PG-13 for cursing and bromance
Open/Closed/Finished: Closed
Summary: On the eve of the battle, Thatch finds some comfort with an old friend.

Thatch rested his arms on the back of the too small tub, and tilted his head back to blow a stream of smoke to the ceiling. Man, what a day. He hadn't expected to be tossed into a maelstrom the minute he stepped into Balamb-- and the battle wasn't even part of it. Well, battles never were. They came and went. You fought them, you lost some, you won some, you mourned, you celebrated.

Nakama, on the other hand. Marco on the other hand. Shit. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took another draw of the precious rose scented tobacco. Rare in Trabia, but not Balamb, thank everything. Not that he was much of a smoker but he liked to indulge once in a while and he had been running out of indulgences.

He stretched and cursed as he stubbed his toe against the wall, kicking it in frustration. Damned tiny bathroom. Damned tiny everything. He needed to commission a new tub, a new bed and desk that he could actually fit under because everyone seemed to be in the size toothpick and under.

Not that he could complain, Namur was in a much smaller boat and had to share one besides. He closed his eyes and ran more hot water in the bath to stir up the lavender bubbles and relaxed again, leaning his head against the wall.

If he knew his Marco.

And he did.

The sparkly chicken would be here soon.

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"Showers? For one thing, Feathers, it's not bubbles but a manly soak." An old joke. "For another." He reached up to grab Marco's beak and point it up.

"You see how close that damn ceiling is? Maybe you can shower but I'm going to crack my head on it if I'm going to do anything." Just stepping into the slightly elevated tub was putting at him a risk for a concussion.

He let Marco go and fished around for the soap, lathered it in his hands. He let Marco's chirp go for a second, washing the tattoo on his bicep first like he always did whether it needed washing or not.

"What kind of question is that?"

Marco tilted his head up and peered at the ceiling before nodding. "Aye. Pops got shrunk when he was here! It was weird, yoi!" He flicked his tail a few times and thought it all over.

"You didn't answer, so that means you're out of sorts." Marco leaned his head over Thatch's shoulder to give him a hug. "Anything I can do? Want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to be out of sorts about."

Except, oh, new nakama, miraculously sanctioned by Pops who was no longer here. Grell was fine, he could be affectionate with her for Marco's sake. Espio...was also fine. Sure. Fine. Hell he was nakama now so he should be just damn peachy. He was even pink.

So great, nakama. Fine. Brothers even. Regardless of the fact that they hadn't sailed with them or even really understood concept, who was he to naysay his captain or his first mate? Even if one of their 'nakama' couldn't even take the time to say a friendly word or two, but that was understandable because, hell, it wasn't as that guy knew them from a hole in the ground.

He pulled the plug and carefully stood.

"I'm going to turn on the shower so move if you don't want to get wet."

Marco hopped out and curled up on the rug on the floor. "Thatch..." But he gave the other man time to finish up and collect himself, even if it meant giving Thatch time to figure out a better masque.

He thought it over and switched back to human, a hand up to his face, where his wing had been over his head. "Did I tell you about my son?"

It would also be helpful if this damn shower head were detachable. Which it wasn't. Something else to requisition. At least it didn't wet his hair unless he wanted it to. He did his best to wash the suds off and blinked at Marco's question.

"Son? With Grell?" Forgive his surprise, brother, but he wasn't quite sure how Marco could even manage that one.

"Adopted, of course," Marco grinned. "Imagine an even younger Ace without any of the snarky rage or fire and you've got Toby. He lived in the wild, in basically a cave, and he just had animal friends. He was cursed so he had to be careful what he touched too. He was Espio's roommate and love, and he was the only reason Grell stopped wanting to kill everyone. He drew a picture of you for me. And one of Pops. Just from the descriptions of you! I still have them in my wallet."

Marco leaned against the wall and let out another sigh. "He was like like our glue. None of us have recovered losing him again. It's the fourth time, eh? His world is terrible to him too. He's so soft-hearted, he didn't want to learn to fight to even defend himself so we kept trying to show him how, to give him reason. I don't know how to get to his world to save him though." A sadder sigh and Marco bit his bottom lip. "Fuck. I wished you were here a thousand times. I still can't believe it, eh? Every time he'd come back, I'd do everything I could to try to figure out how to keep him here, keep him safe, keep him happy. Espio's universe was destroyed by a psycho and he couldn't stop it, Grell is a shinigami, so she can find her way back, but the one who needs it most, we can't rescue, eh?"

Marco shook a hand through his hair. "I wish I was as strong as you. I know what Pops says is true. That it's better this way. Still making new family even when we lose some, but fuck. Sometimes I don't know the point of it all. The people who mean the most to me are the ones I can't save at all, and I'm still such a coward, I only get close to the people I think will stay."

Edited 2013-06-18 02:09 (UTC)

Thatch listened as he finished rinsing off and stepped out to dry himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist before rubbing at his loose hair. He'd need to wash it soon. He was touched, but not terribly surprised. He'd never been one to kid himself how much he meant to people. In fact he always strode to make sure he knew. (miscalculated a little on that one, didn't we, matey?)

Strong as him. As if anyone was really strong at all, come to think of it. What really mattered was being vulnerable. Being able to hold on, let go, go on despite the wind and the waves kicking you in the teeth the entire way... and Marco was more weathered than any one of them. Because of his age. Because at the end of it all, he would stand alone. But nah, not alone.

He flipped the towel from his hair over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Marco's shoulders, resting his chin on the man's head.

"Depends on what you mean by saving. Saving people from death? Nah, you can't do that. In fact, no one can. Maybe you can hold it off for a little while but everyone dies. Even phoenixes." No matter what Marco thought about it, Thatch knew it was the truth and Marco could stuff it.

"But you gave Toby a family." He grins and rubs his beard against Marco's scalp. "A pops. Nakama. You're giving Espio a family when he has shit and Grell someone she can hang around for a long time. Maybe you only get close to the people who need you the most, because if nothing else, you give them something worth living for... Anyone can die, sweetheart, but living well and happily? That's something to fight for."

Edited 2013-06-18 02:35 (UTC)

Marco leaned his head on Thatch's shoulder and let years of stress wash off him. He grinned slowly, put his hand on Thatch's that was holding him close and laughed softly. "You always know what to say, eh?" Not just what to say, but what the problem was, how to fix it, and how to part those gathering clouds so that Marco could see the light again. "That's why I missed you. Even more than Pops, believe it or not. You always know how to get through to people." Marco moved his free hand in a wiggly loop of a pattern as if to gesture the means Thatch knew how to connect the dots and connect to people.

"Come on," Marco rose to his feet, his hand still holding onto Thatch's and he turned to pull his best friend up. "Let's go flying, eh?"

"Quit it already, you're making me blush," he said lightly, giving Marco's shoulder a final squeeze. He let Marco help him up, giving him a look.

"Flying?" Right before a battle? Well it was important to Marco so he would but... "Fine but no loops or fancy things like that," he said, looking into the mirror as he combed his hair back and tied it tight.

"I'll need to wear a hat and I don't want it flying off. The humidity around here will kill my hair for tomorrow."

Marco laughed but nodded his head, looking fondly after his brother, "Agreed."

His stomach churned though at the sight of the scar on Thatch's back. Right from where Blackbeard stabbed him. He gulped, but kept his face smooth for now in case Thatch noticed him in the mirror, he glanced away and mumbled in phoenix, as his habit was whenever he didn't want to talk. Of course most people didn't know avian. "I don't know why it's a problem anyway, you always look good, eh."

Marco was not half as sneaky as he thought he was, especially someone who could read him like an open book. He pushed that aside and smirked a little at the words, hitching the towel back around his waist.

"There's a marked difference between good and perfection. Anyway, a Commander that looks put together inspires trust, especially when there's no basis for it." And those guys had to trust him implicitly if they didn't want to get mowed down and more than they were going to get already.

He patted Marco's cheek and then went into his room to change, shifting sideways to get in and nearly falling over the damn bed.

"I hate these rooms. Damnit. Would it kill them to have a larger size?"

"Gotcha," Marco followed along and shrugged. "You should see the one Grell and I share. I'm still surprised we managed to keep Lark hidden for so long. He was a chocobo. I finally had to convince Kitten that he'd be much happier out with other chocobo. We still have cats though. But that's a secret. Pets are completely illegal and I would never be caught dead breaking the law, eh." Perfect deadpan.

"You can't be caught dead anyway." He pulled on his pants and threw on a shirt, rubbing the mark on his neck before he thought to hell with it and forwent putting on a foulard.

"I could picture you with a chocobo. I bet you sat on the egg and everything." He found a flying with Marco hat that he'd picked up and never thought he'd use and jammed it on his head.

"Oi," Marco gave him a flat look, though it brightened a little at the hat and he stuck his tongue out. "They were already hatched by the time the Home Ec class was raising them, yoi."

He quickly tackled his brother in a hug, mostly just to prove he could still tackle him after all this time.

"You should see me in the gardens or training center though. All the birds know me. I adopted Rinoa as a baby sister too, and Squall -- the commander until he got demoted -- made her cry, so I sent a horde of birds after him and told him it was his shampoo. I'm still proud of that one, eh."

"You're adorable." He grabbed Marco's face and gave him a ~~bugs bunny~~ Ace style kiss to the forehead.

"Now are we going to fly or are you going to stand there tweeting at me all night?"

It had been a long long time...hell not since a little after Ace joined, probably, since that damn kid took everyone's attention like a firework going off. Not that Thatch hadn't enjoyed every moment of it. But he'd missed flying in the quiet night with just the stars and the sea and Mr. Blue and Sparkly.

"Oi," Marco deadpanned, "Don't kiss my forehead, if you're going to kiss me, do it right bastard," he smacked Thatch's ass and gestured to the window. "Think you can fit through that holding around my neck?"

"A forehead kiss is all you're going to get, damned horny toad and HA I can barely fit out the window with myself." He eyed it carefully. "I'm going to have to jump."

Which, frankly, sounded fun. Also, he refused to react that obvious ass slap because he saw Marco's swing and knew its trajectory. He wasn't a swordsman born yesterday and he hoped his phoenix brother felt a little bit of pain from his buns of adamantium.

Edited 2013-06-18 06:13 (UTC)

"I'm not horny," Marco smirked lazily as he fluidly switched into phoenix and the bird from along with it, "Perk of being married. Besides just be grateful you missed spring here. I will never get used to that. Okay, I'm jumping first. Don't leap until I'm ready to catch you. We don't need a repeat of that other incident. My neck isn't a good place to break falls."

Marco glanced at Thatch from the window and quickly etched the sight into his mind. Thatch really did look older. To match the aged scar on his back from Blackbeard, and five years in this world. It was strange. Marco had been away from his nakama for a long time now, but Thatch was the one he really had missed the most. His father and Ace, Marco had been able to see during that time, but Thatch he'd really believed was gone forever. And more, Thatch had been more than just his best friend and brother and fellow commander for years. He'd made Marco who he was now, just as much as Whitebeard had. But where Edward Newgate had been seventy-two years old, Thatch was young yet. Had Whitebeard been thinking of Thatch when Squardo tried to sacrifice himself? Marco had.

"I'll always catch you," Marco promised quietly before he jumped out. It was probably a strange thing for someone else to say, but he knew that Thatch knew that Marco was always a little weird. Price of being a phoenix and well, Marco.

Edited 2013-06-23 10:26 (UTC)

"Of course." He laughed. "You always have." But Marco was gone. Maybe he'd heard him, maybe not, but ah, that was fine. It was no big deal because they where nakama. He went to the window and looked down, Marco flying just slightly below, glittering blue in the night. Thatch placed a hand on the sill and felt it, creeping up.

Oh shit. Oh shit not now. Not now not now. His palms went damp and his fingers shook against the casement as his heart slammed in his throat. It was Marco. He wasn't...he wasn't afraid. But the weight came, like an elephant sitting on his chest, his vision narrowing to the lost blue

fuck shit he couldn't do this he couldn't do this he couldn't breathe. Fuck fuck fuck. He clawed at his neck to pull the scarf free but it wasn't there. Just skin. Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT

But he was on the floor, wheezing sharp in his own ears. Couldn't even stop shaking. His heart was going so fast he could feel it shake his whole body.

He didn't want to die!

Marco circled, waiting for Thatch and when Thatch didn't come, he got worried. Very worried. Was it all an illusion after all? He flew back to the window and perched on it. Even compressed, he filled up most of the frame. "Forget something?" he gave a worried chirp. It sounded deadpan, flat, but for Thatch it'd be nothing short of Marco expressing fear as much as the phoenix nearly never did.

Seeing Thatch on the floor though, Marco got even more worried and hopped inside to check on his brother. "Hey..." a small whistle and blue wings went around Thatch to protect him from invisible harm.

He shoved Marco away without thinking about it. Without even processing. Pushing out as a jolt of something went through him. He was whistling but Thatch couldn't understand. He tried to bully his brain into working, into making sense of it but it felt like he'd been ducked in ice water.

No. Why did Marco have to see this? It was so damn embarrassing. He tried to crack a smile as he shoved himself against the wall, tilting his head so he could breathe better. It didn't work. He could only gasp like a damn fish.

"S...sorry. Go...got poison...poisoned by...some...something in Bal-- Trabia..." He grinned. "Should...go away...soon."

Marco switched back to human and didn't smile in return. "Don't lie to me," he insisted calmly. "Talk to me idiot. You think I'm worried now? I'll worry more if you don't tell me the truth. What's wrong?" Finally, slowly, Marco blinked and knelt down in front of his brother. He didn't look concerned, just even, calm, deadpan, unflappable. Like he had to be, like he was supposed to be. "Is it flying? We can take a car if you want... but you'll have to drive. Or we could ask Grell to snap us over there, but I was thinking just the two of us for tonight, eh?" He reached out a hand and slowly poked Thatch's forehead. "Talk me to me. What's wrong? Something to do with the wound on your back? Lungs?"

He wanted to say yes it was flying. Or driving. Or anything but what it was. He ran a hand through his damp hair, vaguely aware his hat had fallen off somehow...somewhere and looked away, still shuddering for breath, listening to that smooth, familiar, deadpan. Comforting. Marco moved and Tatch glanced at him then smirked as he poked his forehead.

Something to do with...with that...no... No because....no because it wasn't... Well it was there he couldn't deny it. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Marco's shoulder. Smaller than his own but strong nontheless.

"When--" he swallowed. "When I first came to Balamb, I was a mess, you know? They...the thought I was going to die. Heh. But I...I had these...things. For no reason. I couldn't stop shaking. Sh-shell shock I thought. Then the nightmares s-started and I couldn't-- Figured-- any place was better and-- I got better."

Ah damn his eyes were watering.

"And then...Namur came..." he gave a choked laugh. "Poor guy... I...I..." But he couldn't finish. He swallowed again. "S--sorry, mate."

So he remembered. He knew. But that meant Thatch really was living on after the fact. It wasn't a second chance, but it meant Marco could keep protecting him a little longer. He nearly crushed Thatch in his return hug and rested his on head on Thatch's shoulder. He wanted to tell Thatch not to apologize for that. No one should ever have to feel guilty for dying, jeez. But Marco understood why. Thatch understood better than anyone how much it would have hurt Marco to be left behind. To go out early like that. Thatch really had been one of the only people in the world who could get through to Marco sometimes. Who could understand both Marco and everyone else's perspective and cohesively translate the two. If Marco was named after a god of war, he'd always thought Thatch would be his tactician forever.

"We're sorry. None of us knew, eh? And if we had, would we have even said anything?" A brother. To doubt a nakama was unthinkable. They'd survived the New World by trusting each other. That was why Blackbeard could get away with it. "Ugh and you know Shanks came to tell us that he told us so? Fucking punk." Marco still was annoyed, but since Shanks was trying to save Ace's life -- by going about it all wrong -- and then built the memorial for Whitebeard and Ace next to each other, Marco couldn't completely hate him. "I'm not... a good first mate, eh? I'm trying to trust people still and I just want to hibernate. Even our own allies... I almost snapped and killed Squardo at some point." It was hiding a lot of details, but it was all true at least.

"It'll be okay," Marco gulped. "We can get through it together now. So it'll be okay," he clung to Thatch as though worried he'd lose him again. "Hah, no wonder you haven't been surprised I've stuck to you like glue, eh?" He wanted to ask him not to go. Yet again. For a thousandth time. But it was all right. Even if he lost Thatch again; no, when he lost him, at least he'd have had an extra day. An extra hour. An extra anything. "Don't be sorry, just..." it hurt. It hurt that Thatch couldn't go back to the Grand Line. It hurt that Thatch had been suffering where Marco couldn't know to reach him. It killed him that the one time Thatch needed it most, Marco hadn't had his back. Nakama were always supposed to guard each other's backs. Thatch had always protected his and Marco hadn't been able to guard Thatch's in return. "Stay. Let me guard your back here, and we'll move forward together."

Price of being a phoenix. Marco didn't want to move back in time. To do so just meant repeating it in a loop. He wanted to move forward and take everyone with him.

"Sorry for what?" The words came out distantly as if someone else was speaking. He smiled and pushed the cold back where it belonged and slipped his arms around Marco, letting his words flow past. Not really paying attention. Something about Shanks. Well, he'd never really gotten along with Shanks, but Thatch had always thought he was a pretty decent guy all told. He chuckled at Marco's words, though the sound grated in his throat.

"Here? I'd prefer home, thank you. Where I belong. The endless blue sea and Pops' flag flying high." More than anything, he wanted to see that again. To smell the sea air. Hear the laughter and chatter of nakama. Sit beside Pops and drink with him, watching Marco perched proudly on his shoulder.

"One day, eh? We'll all go home together."

Edited 2013-06-24 10:07 (UTC)

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