Chapter Text
“Will you release Steven from his deal?”
Khonshu tilted his head. Even now, as old and worn as his banishment had made him, he still looked earthial under the light of the moon. Untouchable and divine. There was not a day that did not go by where Anubis wished he hadn't walked away from him. Losing Ammit had not been easy for either of them, and maybe they could have found comfort with each other if they had not let their anger blind them instead. If they had not let their grief rule them.
Maybe they could still be happy if they had let themselves mourn.
“Do you think me so cruel, Anubis?” Khonshu asked.
“No.” Anubis answered. Then, softer, “I never did.”
Khonshu hummed a single note, sweet and melodic. “Yes. I will release him.” He paused for a moment, his shoulders dropping just enough for Anubis to notice. Khonshu was very good at hiding things, but Anubis was better at finding them. “You were right. I—I should not have tried to keep them apart.” He paused again, tilting his head just enough to glance at Anubis. “No one should be made to feel this grief.”
There was so much Anubis wanted to say.
But their moment was gone. Had been gone for thousands of years.
“I am sorry,” Anubis murmured.
“A little late for apologies, isn’t it?”
Khonshu wasn’t looking at him anymore, but Anubis still couldn’t look away from him. There was a different kind of beauty to the god now, but Anubis was still so drawn to it. Like a moth to the flame. He wished things had gone differently. He wished he could fix the things that had gone wrong. He wished–
He just wished.
“That doesn’t mean I mean it any less.” Anubis whispered.
Khonshu glanced at him for a moment.
Then he was gone.
—
“Jake?” Steven said softly. “I know you're there.”
Jake had stayed back when Steven returned from the Duat, hovering just close enough to the front to see that he was okay–that he was alive–before slipping back into the headspace.
And there he had stayed.
While Marc held Steven in that shitty inventory room, while Marc kissed him like he would die if he didn’t, while Steven broke down from the elation and shock of being able to feel again, while he and Marc walked back to the apartment they used to share–the apartment Steven had never really left, while they collapsed into the bed and tangled themselves together until Jake couldn’t tell where Steven started and Marc ended, while they talked and kissed and cried until the moon crossed the sky and the sun started to rise and Marc fell asleep, while Steven stayed wide awake, Jake stayed in the headspace.
Just out of reach, but close enough to see.
Because that’s the way it has always been.
He didn’t want to front, didn’t want to face Steven just as much as he wanted to pull Steven into his arms and never let him go. He didn’t belong here with Steven, not like this. This was Marc’s space. This was Marc’s to feel, not Jake’s. But–but Jake was so bad at saying no to Steven.
Hesitantly, Jake took the body from a still sleeping Marc and opened his eyes.
It took him a moment to adjust to the drowsiness that still clung to the body.
“Hey,” Steven smiled. His fingers were gently working through Jake’s hair, tugging and pulling pleasantly. Jake couldn’t help but to lean into it, seeking out the new and sudden warmth of Steven’s hand. It was grounding. Comforting. A reminder that Steven was here. “There you are.”
“Here I am.” Jake whispered.
He was scared to speak any louder. Scared to move any more than he already had.
“Are you okay?” Steven asked softly.
Jake closed his eyes again. He knew Marc had spoken about him while he and Steven lay in bed, told Steven that Jake had retreated, that he had—that he had broken down when Steven left. That Marc was worried about him but he didn’t want to drag Jake back to the front if he wasn’t ready. “I think I should be asking you that, Stevie.”
“Jake,” Steven said softly.
“I’m fine,” It sounded like a lie just as much as it tasted like one. He could feel Marc hesitantly pushing forward, probably feeling Jake’s distress but not sure how to help. “I was just–giving you and Marc some space. I’m sure you two wanted some alone time.”
“Jake,” Steven said his name again. Impossibly softer, like a grandmother’s lullaby.
“Don’t–” Jake started, then stopped. He pulled back from Steven, rolling over to his other side so he wasn’t looking at him. The mirror on the bedside table greeted him, along with a worried Marc. Jake closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Marc either. A moment later he felt a hand falling onto his shoulder.
Just sweetly holding him.
“Don’t do this to me, Stevie.” Jake pleaded. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
Steven was silent for a long time.
“You know what I saw when I was in the Field of Reeds?” He finally asked.
Jake swallowed something heavy.
“There was a house there, and Marc was waiting for me on the front steps.” Steven continued. His hand found its way into Jake’s hair again, running through his curls like a gentle breeze. Jake couldn’t help but lean into it, couldn’t help but let Marc take control of the body for just a moment long enough to turn back towards Steven. “And then there you were, waiting for both of us.” He wrapped an arm around Jake’s shoulders, pulling him against his chest. “You both looked so happy, and I wanted to go into that house with you so badly.”
Steven fell silent for a moment, working his fingers through Jake’s hair before cupping the back of his neck and just–just holding him.
It felt nice.
“Why didn’t you?” Jake asked softly. He opened his eyes then, peering up at Steven.
“Because it wasn’t real,” Steven said. “It was a lovely image, but it wasn’t the Marc and Jake that I loved.”
Jake felt his breath catch in his throat. “You don’t love me.”
“Maybe not yet,” Steven agreed. He leaned down, brushing the hair back and out of Jake’s eyes before leaving a gentle kiss on his lips. “But I’m getting there.”