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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"But tempting you is the whole point, eh? Would showing you our dungeon tempt you more or scare you off?" Marco carried on cheerfully and squished his hug a little.

"Oh, I don't know. Worried about jumping, flying with me, being alone with me, traveling through the air with only myself between you and a certain death. Panic attacks get triggered by something, matey."

"Depends. Would there be handcuffs?" He closed his eyes again at the question and sighed, resting his forehead against Marco's.

"I don't know, I said. I just... I looked and saw you flying...and I froze."

He wanted to ask why it was a big deal, but knew why. Because they were nakama. They should trust each other completely.

Ha.

Because maybe...

Maybe in the end....

There was always that one thing. The one thing that no one could say no to. Beyond all bonds of nakama. And maybe when someone found that one thing, everyone else fell away. Thatch lifted his head and took another sip of tea that was growing cold.

Maybe one day Marco would find that thing. Maybe one day Namur would. And who knew what Grell and Espio wanted. If they even understood the usual bonds. Maybe that was just how life was, no matter how much everyone wanted to pretend otherwise.

"Aye, but they're for Grell, not for you. She teleports in a flash sometimes so you have to be careful around her," Marco nodded seriously.

He cocked his head to the side, looking even more like a bird than usual when he did that. "You said I'd catch you, so it wasn't that. Was it?"

Watch out for Grell. Was that a warning or... No. Damnit he was being ridiculous... right? And Marco just kept pushing. Inevitable. Absorbing everything and coming for more until he got what he was after. If the old man was an earthquake, Marco was the tide, blue and relentless. Thatch was feeling worn down from it all.

"I don't know what it was." He sighed again and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Well fine. Absorb this. It would sting, but that was what Marco was best at, right? Taking pain from every damn thing whether he could withstand it or not. Just because his body could didn't mean the same thing for his heart but--

No...no. Hell he couldn't do it. He couldn't. No matter-- even if there was that one thing, he didn't think Marco would believe it and hearing it... well...maybe not exactly....

"I used to think some things were certain. But nothing is, really." It was like the old warden had told him once over a handful of frayed cards. In the end, everyone is rowing their own boat.

So much pain. Had Thatch been holding all this in for the last five years? It was a wonder her hadn't broken apart more.

"Aye," Marco's blue eyes were sharper than usual, sad, and serious, unusual for him. Very unusual for him. When did he ever stop kidding around and get serious? Or maybe he was always a little serious so no one except Thatch could tell the difference. And that was the rub of it. Only Thatch seemed to instantly know the difference. "I told you, didn't I? I could barely trust anyone when I first arrived here. The only thing that kept me pushing, kept me trying so that I didn't run and hide in some cave was the knowledge that you and Pops would be disappointed in that. You both taught me better." He poked Thatch's forehead.

"I'm scared, eh." There wasn't a single person in any universe Marco could ever admit that to usually. The more he loved someone, the more the trusted them, the more he had to protect them. Even his father. If Marco was scared, then everyone else had to reason to be scared, and like dominoes they'd fall and knock each other down. "I'm not kidding, either." Seriousness in exchange for seriousness. Honesty in exchange for honesty. Hard words, brutal words. It was poison extraction though. Drawing out the darkness to show it in the light. "What if you're different enough that you're not the same Thatch I always loved? What if you don't like who I've become? What if you--" Marco closed his eyes and let out a sigh, before resting his hand calmly on Thatch's forehead. "But I make it quiet. I remember that I trust you. No matter what. More than everyone. Much more than myself. Do you still trust me Thatchette?"

Like jokes, the nicknames never ended. Nicknames were their affection, their endless reminders that they cared, that they knew each other inside out. The more nicknames they had, the more they could joke around and get through the serious things as well.

Dumbass. Why the hell would he ever be afraid of Thatch not liking him? Of not approving? They were nakama, but more then that, they were friends. Friends from the moment he first saw that idiotic sparkly blue turkey in the cargo hold. And he knew what Marco was doing, pointing out how they were the same. How neither of them could hide. How they had to face the truth no matter how much it hurt.

There was just so goddamn much of it.

Marco's last question hit him like a club to the gut and he covered his eyes with a hand though it didn't stop anything except close out the blue light which absorbed but also stung. Here it was only darkness.

"No," he said thickly, his voice hoarse. "I don't trust anyone. I can't." Even if he wanted to. Even though he'd try to force himself again and again. To reassure himself. The doubts wouldn't go away.

That was a truth that didn't hurt. Strangely. It came as too much of a relief again. That it was Thatch, that it was real, that he was really there and hurting and it wasn't an illusion. Marco started crying. He couldn't explain why. He wasn't sad, but there were a lot of emotions in there. "You're alive, you're alive," he whistled in phoenix and clung to his brother. "I thought I'd never see you again. I hated that. Don't you know how irreplaceable you are? Thatch. Thatch look at me. Even if I can't protect you, you can still trust me. You taught me that as much as Pops, eh. Don't back away now. Don't retreat, I'll come get you."

"Shut up. You damned phoenix. It's late and I'm tired and we have a long ass day tomorrow," Thatch said but he was crying too, damnit. Again. He didn't want to hear it but he did. He didn't want to believe it and he wanted to trust it so much it hurt. Right now he couldn't decide. Right now he couldn't even think. Right now he was too damn exhausted to think.

"Let's just go to bed, aye? Can we do that? Please? Will you have me?" It was a stupid joke but a desperate one. He couldn't do this right now. He couldn't push anymore or he would break and tomorrow would be even more hell than it was already.

"You're an idiot. It has to be now because if we risk dying without saying it, we'll regret it," Marco answered between clenched teeth and nearly sobs. "I'm not leaving. I'm not. Thatch, please. If I'm the only one you'll trust, you can always trust me, I'll never steer you wrong. You didn't just save my life a thousand times over." Okay maybe he was really sobbing now. In the manliest way possible. "You made it worth living. If all I can do is be trustworthy back, you have that. You'll have it a thousand times over. Thatch, please." Marco couldn't take the tears anymore, he switched into his phoenix form and curled up in Thatch's lap with a soft sad whistle. He didn't know how to protect him. He couldn't go back in time, he couldn't fix it, but so long as he was with Thatch, he wouldn't let him get hurt again. He'd take any shot that came for the man.

"Mine," he quietly asserted in a whistle, the emotions blessedly a little more dulled in bird form. Dulled, but no less present. Just simpler, less sharp, easier to cope with. They were direct. Thatch was his brother, his best friend, his and he'd protect him. Or die trying.

There was a lot he'd-- he'd never-- but he blocked him out because he couldn't. Not right now. As much as he--as much as Marco was a brother, this was too much and he didn't have a convenient form to change into when things got overwhelming. It was just Thatch. Always just Thatch.

"Yours," he said, picking Marco up and setting him on his shoulder so he could get things put away and go to bed. Moving helped. It pushed everything back. Settled it somewhere in the back of his throat. "And you're mine. And Namur is our beautiful baby smolt and we'll be one big happy family if you promise to change him." He gave a choking laugh and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and then leaned against the counter, gripping it hard, fighting past everything that was threatening to drown him.

"I'll try, okay? I will. And trust or not, I'd still follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond because someone has to look after you." That was the only thing he could say right now. The only thing he could give.

Edited 2013-06-28 08:34 (UTC)

Marco curled up around Thatch's shoulders as protectively as possible. He understood really. It took him a long time to trust Thatch as much as he did. And truly, Thatch was the only person in the universe Marco trusted that much. He couldn't explain why either. It was because Thatch was Thatch, and Marco was Marco. A phoenix. And Thatch sometimes seemed to be the only one who understood every single layer of that or unspoken or impossible to express aspect of it. The desire to run away from people, the curiosity to get closer and risk being burned. And now Thatch had been burned, no worse, stabbed. Marco wished again and again he could heal others, but his devil fruit was too selfish for that. Selfish?

It was excruciating. He absorbed other's pain and damage, but he couldn't save them. It was a strange sort of thing all told. "I love you," Marco whistled comfortably from his position around Thatch's neck and getting into the bed. "Missed you too. A lot." More than he could ever tell anyone. He'd told both Espio and Grell about Thatch, but he could never explain the depths of how much Thatch had meant to him. Marco wouldn't be Marco without Thatch. He'd be as different as was alien. Thatch made him a person. If Whitebeard gave Marco life, a reason to live, a drive, a purpose, and a meaning, Thatch still was the one to make Marco human. A person, not just the phoenix lost in time and observing from afar. It was excruciating, but it was better.

All the time spent perched in trees in the garden, yes, he'd thought a lot about Ace, but just as much about Thatch. Both of them he hadn't been able to save. But Thatch could have saved Ace. Thatch would have known how to talk to Ace. Thatch had known how to talk to Ace once upon a time. "I will protect your dreams," Marco chirped quietly. It was a silly claim. Absurd really. As if Marco had control over such a thing in Thatch's head, but in a strange way, he was sure that he could and would. If Thatch let him. He'd have to trust him enough, but it'd be a start. Less nightmares and then Marco could start repairing the bridge that Teach had tried to chop down. He could try to rebuild something new, something better perhaps. He would protect Thatch's dreams if Thatch let him, because he was Marco, and Thatch was Thatch, and Marco couldn't explain it if he tried.

It was okay though, he was certain that Thatch would understand anyway. Thatch usually did. And even when he didn't, he accepted it and that was enough.

Marco happily nuzzled Thatch's neck and rubbed the top of his head to the underside of Thatch's chin and scruffy goatee. He missed this. He missed Thatch. He was still terrified he'd wake up again and that it would all be some fever dream. Or that he'd lose Thatch again. No, he would eventually lose Thatch again, period. That was the price of being the phoenix, but he didn't want to lose him in such a painful way again. He wanted to do better, to protect him better, to make it last more, to make Thatch a little happier first. For now, it was enough to just hold onto him.

He hadn't been able to relax at all when he'd first come to Balamb. There had been weeks where he'd go without sleeping until he collapsed and slept for two days at a time. Trabia, had been a little easier once he'd gotten used to Namur again, and the breathing of his nakama had comforted him a little. Here, though, it was hard not to be soothed by Marco's whistles. His birdie pettings and nuzzles and the soft blue fire that tingled but didn't burn. Even the small bed was tolerable.

He rubbed Marco's back, scratched at all his favorite places. Under the wing, under the chin, right at his jawline. He'd missed this and he hadn't even realized it. It was like coming home in a small way.

"Aye, you can guard my dreams, sweetheart," he said, stroking Marco's neck. "You know, Vista told me once that the best way to fight bad dreams is to think of something pleasant before sleeping."

Of course, being Vista, he'd suggested the Ballad of Erom, which was about five hundred pages too long and full of prose so purple, Thatch was afraid he'd dream about being a grape just from reading the first few lines. Not to mention 'Quivering Lances'.

But something pleasant... Something pleasant...

Oh...

"Remember that time on Swanboat Island when Pops came back with both ends of his mustache gone and no one would tell you why?"

Edited 2013-06-28 09:19 (UTC)

Marco tingled and shivered from all the touches, quivering just a little himself like one of those lances, and leaned into the scritches. No one knew how to handle him like Thatch. And he was okay with that.

"Aye?" Marco tilted his head curiously. "Was it a chick? I knew he'd get his beard shaved off one day like that. I told him all about Delilah just so he'd be more careful. He never listens though. Just like Ace." At least Ace didn't have to worry about some crazy broad deciding to keep his facial hair to show off to others. Vista did, but at least Vista knew to be careful about such things. Dressarossa Island's stabby women could teach a man a lot about caution of passionate girls.

"Well we bribed Izo" aka Marco's tattle-tale, unless offered certain expensive sweets that he might have had on hand for the occasion...

"And went over to Gregoria." Marine Base, yes. Finest ladies in the land, hells yes. They'd black cloaked and everything. It was kind of delicious even if certain commanders couldn't stop cackling about it.

"And we got into this drinking competition." Which he may have initiated. "And Pops saw this really foxy lady leave and stuck his head out the window to call out to her." He took a moment to swallow back the laughter.

"And it turns out, she was a marine captain with the kochin kochin fruit and she petrified his mustache so he couldn't get his head back in the window. So it turns out it was a trap and we were in a room full of marines with the strongest man in the world with his head stuck in the window." He was laughing now, half crying at the same time.

"I thought Izo would have a heart attack and we were all panicking to hell and Pops was still trying to flirt" his voice squeaked a little with the laughter. "...flirt with her though called it reasoning and she was just getting madder and madder, and we had to hold off the guys in the room who were trying to call for backup and Vista had to scale the roof so he could come down and cut Pops' mustache free.

And then hahaha then it turns out that one of the guys bucking for vice admiral was there and by the time we got free there were thirteen cannons aimed at us and because Pops was way too damn drunk to fight without leveling the whole town, we flatfooted the whole way and burned the bridge behind us so they couldn't get over. And it started to rain.

So fourteen of us were all huddled in this ditch covered with mud and Izo was trying to strangle me"

He was laughing too hard to continue now and couldn't seem to stop.

Edited 2013-06-28 09:43 (UTC)

Marco's birdie eyes widened. Were they freaking kidding him? Marco almost had a heart attack right there himself!

But it was nice to see Thatch laughing that hard again. Even if they had gone to a marine base and then lied about it those fuckers! They deserved to be covered in mud and strangled and rained upon and everything else! Well maybe not Vista, who at least had the good sense to cut off Pops' mustache. And if they had told Marco? Marco would have plucked off the rest in punishment to make it stick....

Well.

Clearly the lesson had stuck a little. It was decades ago after all!

"You deserved it," Marco gave a small birdie growl, but he was amused by it all. Good Izou. Dependable at least. Even if the others were being idiots, Izou was the one ally Marco could count on to come to him and get Marco put an end to some of the reckless idiocy. Maybe it was no small wonder he'd wound up marrying someone who could have been Izou's protege. They must have bribed the sixteenth commander with a lot to keep him quiet. Though, not after the fact. Afterwards they probably all universally agreed that Marco didn't need to have the birdie attack. And they were right. Even decades later, it took focus to get his heart to stop racing with worry.

He gave a small birdie chuckle, "Izou in mud... It's a wonder he didn't kill you. Was he wearing his best silk kimono too?"

Thatch calmed a little at the birdie growl, only because it was so adorable and it was good to see Marco acting like the old days, annoyed and worried and fond no matter how much he wanted to hide it to prevent things like this from happening in the future. They always did anyway.

"Izou has so many best kimonos it's hard to tell." He chuckled and smoothed his fingers along the underside of Marco's beak. "Anyway, after Pops had saved me from the enraged okama, he asked us not to tell so we spent the night with an old friend of mine." Granted he'd only known her about a day and a half but they were old friends by that time. He'd made sure of it. And made sure to thank her thoroughly before they left.

"But don't fret about it, Marco." And since he knew the phoenix was going to anyway... "If Sparks had been there, it would have been worse."

Edited 2013-06-28 18:00 (UTC)

Marco gave another irritated birdie growl, but it was true. Izou had dozens "best kimonos." And if Ace had been there, they would have burned down several buildings too and needed to pay reparations to smooth it all over or at least cover it up. "I'm not sure that's supposed to be reassuring," Marco reproached the other pirate, but tilted his head for more affection nonetheless. "If phoenixes could die of old age, you probably would have killed me by now," joking of course. Well mostly.

"Well fortunately I'll have you around for a good long while then." He scratched a bit more then shifted onto his back, settling Marco on his chest because there was room for him otherwise. There wasn't even any room for Thatch.

"So what made you turn merc here, anyway?" he asked, absently petting Marco's hair flames. "Why not just keep on being a pirate?"

"I am still a pirate," Marco cocked his head. "I'm so piratical I am using them to my advantage." He flicked his tail, a tell-tale sign that he was thinking hard. "I like Cid though. He reminds me of Pops. The way he looks after kids and has to deal with politics and assassination attempts, yoi. So I wanted to pay him back for that. How about you? Why take up teaching? Settling down in your old age?"

Thatch folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. Leave it to Marco to have a reason for doing something outside of...well... what Thatch had done. He thought about it, though, trying to put it into words that didn't sound utterly pathetic.

Unfortunately those didn't seem to exist.

But in the end, Marco was Marco and understood him better than anyone anyway.

"I had nothing else to do. I wanted to be with people." He shrugged. "I didn't know anything about this place." And he'd been desperate enough to cling to the first thing that he reasonably understood. "Afterward, I guess I just decided to keep going in a straight line until something stopped me."

Or he died of old age...Which had looked increasingly likely the longer he'd been here with no discernible way of getting home in sight.

Edited 2013-06-28 18:40 (UTC)

Marco did understand. Intimately. So he was extra relieved that Namur had come along to help give Thatch some of that track back. He quietly headbutted his best friend and ruffled his feathers into a puffball. "Idiot." But not for the reason Thatch probably thought. "That's not something to be ashamed of. Isn't that why most outsiders are here? At least you did a lot of good with it. Teaching. I just stuck to missions. Something I knew from home." He ruffled his feathers again and rolled around onto his back to proudly display the tattoo. "Like I said, I just wanted to run off and find some cave somewhere and hole up." But that would have been running away, and he promised not to. A long time ago. "Supposedly there's a phoenix GF that did that. I can't say I'm surprised. I want to meet it though."

He gave Thatch a sly birdie grin. "Most people do think I'm a GF in this form you know. Want to help me beguile the gullible ones? You can tell them I'm yours and they'll stop trying to catch me."

"I was mostly tired of seeing these stupid kids dying." Tactics was an art. Knowing when to go, when to retreat, where to hit hard and where to slip the knife between the ribs and twisting. He crossed his arms over Marco and snorted a feathery yellow hair frond away from his nose.

"You are mine. Maybe I'll tell them you're just a glittery turkey. That'll turn the off fast enough. Or just a pretty parrot. Marky wanna cracker?"

A flat look. And then Marco just bit the hat right off Thatch's head with his beak and shook it about to mess up Thatch's hair. "Only if you want me to blackmail you with stories of your youth, yoi. I am yours, but you're mine too don't forget." Marco settled back down and snuggled Thatch's neck again. "You're cute, eh. That excuse is as old as Pops. And then some." He flicked his tail about happily though. "But it'll have to do."

His hair was still pulled back from the shower so Marco didn't mess up a thing that he cared about, though he did put a hand up on reflex--before chuckling and resting it back on Marco's chest, stroking his blue throat with the pad of his thumb.

"Seriously, though, if people do try to pull that, I'll talk to them. If they can't tell a phoenix from a normal GF they have a bigger problem than just being greedy." He took off his hat completely and flung it onto the bedside table carelessly before pulling the blanket over them both.

"Go to sleep now, Feathers. Tomorrow I'll make coffee and eggs and maybe we can even reel Namur in. I think I have a worm or two."

Marco shivered in pure delight in spite of himself. Everything about it was so familiar, so right, from Thatch's soft expression, to the stroke of his thumb, and the offer for breakfast. He was being taken care of again, and that hadn't happened since Thatch died. He flicked his tail happily and lightly pet Thatch with it. "I'm really glad you're here." It wasn't just that he was happy, he felt a bit more whole again. The hollowness that had been threatening to swallow him inside seemed to dissipate just with Thatch's presence. He still feared it was a lie. That his brain had finally snapped and he'd retreated into a part of insanity to protect himself after Toby's disappearance, but if that was the case, he'd better make the best of it.

He snuggled Thatch again and closed his eyes, settling down to sleep. "Goodnight. I love you."

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thatched - 2013-06-29 08:00 (UTC) - Expand

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