The Imagination Latibule: Moon Knight - The Rise of the Moon

Chapter 12

"Ay," you heard Marc sigh. "I really liked that jacket." 

"I don't think it suited us."

You didn't remember getting back to the hotel. You remembered Marc picking you up in the jousting arena, and that was about everything. But now you were sprawled amongst the bedsheets, and as you looked to your left, there was a scattered pile of medicines, bandages and all sorts. You heard the sound of a bin opening, then a thud; the jacket your presumed, and then Marc rounded the corner, trousers sitting low on his hips as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. He was bruised, but it was nothing compared to the state he'd be in if Khonshu wasn't looking over him.

Speaking of the pigeon as the two of you so affectionately labelled him, when you glanced out of the balcony doors, you could see him sitting on the rooftop opposite. He would never admit to caring for you, but only when you mustered a small wave at him did he bow his head slightly and vanish. It was like he was waiting for you to wake up. Maybe you were growing on him? 

"y/n."  When Marc saw your eyes open, he rushed over and sat carefully on the side of the bed. There were no words as he scooped you into a hug. 

"Hi there," you mumbled, reaching for his hand.

"Hey baby."

"y/n, love, we were so worried," Steven said. Marc had placed a mirror by your side, and you smiled at Steven through it as he pulled away. "How are you feeling?" 

"Rough," you admitted. "Marc, we can't waste time," you said, trying to push yourself up, but a single hand on your shoulder was all it took for Marc to push you back down.

"We can waste all the time in the world if it means getting you better," Marc said and you scowled at his fondness. But the scowl quickly broke into a smile as he raised his eyebrows.

"Fine," you agreed begrudgingly. A lot of your body was already bandaged; a thick one around your leg, another around your waist. There was cream lathered liberally across your arms, and an ice pack balanced atop your head that Marc pulled off when you sat with a wince.

"You need to rest," Marc said, and you smiled at him, that cheeky gleam still about your eyes as you leant forward and rested your head against his shoulder. 

"I can rest like this," you said, and you felt his lips on your forehead.

"I suppose you can." From the bedside table, Marc picked up a pair of tweezers, and took your hand in his. It was bloody from where you'd picked up shards of glass. You watched his face as he worked, how he caught his bottom lip slightly in his teeth as he concentrated, his brows furrowed and eyes crinkled. You nuzzled your face further into the crook of his neck as he pulled out a shard of glass and dropped it into the bowl of water. He rubbed his hand up and down your back gently as he did so. 

"What was Harrow talking about?" you mumbled as he dabbed the wounds clean with a cotton bud.  

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"He said you were keeping secrets," you said, and Marc shook his head as he got the final piece. He set the bowl to the side and cupped your hand in his, kissing each finger. 

"You know, he's got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that," Marc said, ripping off a piece of bandage and wrapping it around your palm. "If that were true, I don't think he'd have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?"

You shook your head. "He needs to be stopped."

"And we will stop him," Marc said, glancing at his watch, "in approximately 12 hours when the sun next sets."