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"It's quite a confident shirt, isn't it?" Steven says uncertainly, voice trailing away as he frowns at their reflection in the mirror. He bought the shirt in a charity shop yesterday morning and he's already regretting it. He hesitates, biting his lip. "Marc, do you reckon we look like a supply teacher?"
"More like a dorky librarian," Marc says but his fondness is evident as he reaches up to straighten their collar. "I think you look cute."
Steven blushes, clearly flustered as he fusses with their dark curls and steals a glimpse of Marc in the mirror. Their eyes meet and linger, the tension between them growing.
Yes, Jake thinks, hardly daring to hope. Just kiss each other already.
They don't, of course.
Steven flushes the colour of a fire engine instead and Marc bundles them out of the apartment, mumbling about making it to work on time. If Jake had control of their body, he'd roll his eyes hard enough that they'd probably fall out of his skull.
Why do they both have to be so stubborn? So obtuse? Jake's a man of few words, a man of passion, but clearly his alters weren't lucky enough to inherit these qualities from him.
Idiots.
Jake feels distinctly sour as he's carried once more onto the bustling street outside the apartment. Steven is still stealing glimpses of Marc in the shop windows they're passing and there's a hint of blood colouring Marc's cheeks that wasn't there before. A soft smile touches his lips.
¡Dios mío! Jake thinks, frustrated. How can two people be so repressed?
On some level, Jake realises that he will have to try a damn sight harder if he wants his alters to pull their heads out of the sand and accept how they feel about each other.
He needs a plan.
*
He starts simply, leaving a post-it note on the kitchen counter with 'chocolates' written on it.
Yesterday, Steven had complained for ten whole minutes about the lack of good vegan chocolate available at the Tesco express near their apartment. Jake hoped this would encourage Marc to buy Steven a treat to show he cared.
"Chocolate?" Marc reads, squinting. "Wait, what?" He drops his empty coffee cup in the sink and glances at the reflective surface of the fridge door curiously. "You want some candy, Steven?"
"I could indeed go for some candy, Marc," Steven agrees. His eyes crinkle suddenly with amusement. "Candy is such a silly word, don't you think?"
"It's better than sweets," Marc retorts, eyes gleaming. "That shows a serious lack of imagination."
"Well, maybe our candy is just better than yours," Steven says cheekily. "Although if you want American candy, London is the place to get it. I mean, have you seen how many American candy shops we have over here? It's totally bonkers."
"Well, maybe we better visit one after lunch," Marc decides, his smile audible. "I'll buy you a bag of Hershey's Kisses. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"A kiss?" Steven repeats, eyes twinkling. "Wouldn't say no, Marc."
"Oh," Marc murmurs, pleased. "Noted."
They wander off to get dressed, still laughing and joking together, and although Marc didn't immediately rush out to buy Steven a treat, he still made his alter happy.
Jake is willing to count this as a win.
*
Jake is a very romantic man.
It's Valentine's Day and he purchases the largest bouquet of red roses he can find from a nearby florist (paying a metaphorical arm and a leg for them), before arranging them carefully in a pint glass on the kitchen table. (With hindsight, he should have bought a vase too.)
He takes the generic heart-patterned card from its envelope and pulls the lid off a biro with his teeth. With the pen poised over the paper, he rummages around inside himself and coaxes Steven out, who emerges blinking and confused.
"Marc?" he asks softly, puzzled.
"Not quite," Jake says, smirking at Steven from the fridge door. "Hello, mi amigo. Write the card for Marc."
"What the hell?" Steven stares at Jake in shock, the biro slipping from his fingers. "Who are you?"
"I'm Jake," Jake says, taking control of their body for a moment and picking the biro up. "Write the card, Steven. There's a good boy."
"Oh my days. You're the one who's been murdering people, aren't you?" Steven looks less scared than he might have once - for that, Jake feels a hint of pride for him - but he isn't writing the card yet. Jake rolls his eyes.
"Steven," he prompts, irritated. "I'm waiting."
"I'll write it, calm down! I just..." Steven scrunches his nose up, confused. "I'm wondering why you care. What's in it for you?" He bends over the card and begins to write but the frown is audible in his voice. "You've never made yourself known to us before. Why now?"
"So many questions," Jake murmurs wearily. "Having to listen to you both constantly pining over each other is exhausting. I want some peace and quiet."
"Oh," Steven says, although it's really more of a squeak. "Okay. That makes sense. Sorry if we've been bothering you, mate."
"All will be forgiven," Jake says firmly. "If you will only write the damn card."
Steven gets to work and Jake watches him, satisfied as his plan comes to fruition. Steven finishes the card with a flourish, the 'love Steven' written in neat looping handwriting above a number of kisses.
Steven seals the card and balances it against the glass before he gives one of the roses a gentle prod with his fingertip. He disappears for a moment, reappearing with a single Hershey's Kiss which he sets on the table beside the card. Steven's cheeks are flushed but he's smiling all the same.
"Good teamwork," Steven says.
"Indeed," Jake agrees as he scans their handiwork, eyes glinting. "Es perfecto."
This will win Marc over for sure.
*
The roses work, but only barely.
Jake had misjudged just how curious Marc would be at Steven's discovery of a third alter. Marc quizzed Steven on Jake continuously, looking utterly perplexed as he idly stroked a rose petal that had fallen to the table.
"I just don't understand why we aren't aware of him," Marc says, frowning.
"Well, I am, sort of," Steven says, shrugging. "But only now that he's introduced himself to me. He's watching us right now, I think."
"Huh," Marc murmurs, eyes darting about uncertainly. "And these flowers are from him?"
"Not quite," Steven says softly. Clearly embarrassed, he disappears with nothing but a faint: "Look closer."
Marc does as he's told. He opens the card and reads the message, his heart fluttering at the 'Love Steven' written inside. He smiles fondly when he sees the single Hershey's Kiss waiting for him on the table.
"A kiss," Marc whispers, fingers rising to touch his lips. "Thank you, Steven."
*
Jake leaves the poetry book out on purpose, with Marc's credit card tucked inside like a bookmark. It's the only surefire way to be certain that Marc will see it.
Marc picks up the dogeared book thoughtfully, removing his credit card as his gaze drifts over the page containing Steven's favourite poem: “Les Séparés" by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore.
With barely a moment of hesitation, Marc tucks the book under his arm and heads out of the flat. Jakes watches him, curious.
It isn't until much later that night when they're lying tucked beneath their duvet that Marc mentions it.
"I learnt your favourite poem today, Steven," he says. "But in English. You know I'm not so good at French."
"Really?" Steven sounds sleepy but very pleased. Their hair is rumpled as Steven pushes them up on their elbows. "You learnt the whole poem?"
"Only the last verse," Marc admits. "But I wanted to do something special for you. You do so much for me."
"I'm listening," Steven says softly, with only tenderness in his voice.
Marc swallows nervously, cheeks heating. Steven reaches up to stroke their cheekbone, his fingertips cool and comforting.
"Do not write those gentle words that I dare not see," Marc recites in faltering tones, studiously avoiding Steven's reflection in the mirror. "It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart."
Marc's voice grows in strength as Steven listens to him in awestruck silence, eyes sparkling, hardly believing this is real.
Privately, Jake can't believe it either. He never imagined Marc would truly follow the path Jake had set out for him. This is better than he'd ever imagined.
"Across your smile, on fire, they appear to me," Marc says softly as his eyes finally meet Steven's in the mirror. Their gazes lock and Marc loses himself in it, drowning in the warmth of Steven's loving eyes. He never wants to resurface. "It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart. Do not write."
The silence in the room stretches and Marc closes their eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. He's embarrassed and it's painfully evident.
"Oh, Marc," Steven says quietly, his voice unusually choked. "That was beautiful. I don't know what to say."
Tell him you love him, Jake thinks frustratedly but Steven chooses to ignore the suggestion.
"You really liked it?" Marc asks in a very small voice, his tone disbelieving. A chink of moonlight enters the room through a gap in the curtains, painting a silver stripe across Steven's face in the mirror.
"I loved it," Steven corrects him earnestly, speaking in little more than a whisper. He watches Marc intently before seeming to come to a decision.
Barely hesitating, he kisses the pad of his thumb and reaches up, pressing it deliberately to the corner of their mouth, as though he lost his nerve at the last second.
A soft sound escapes Marc - almost a gasp - and he reaches up with trembling fingers to hold Steven's wrist, his grip warm and sure. Their heart is pounding in their chest, the beat dizzying. Jake can feel them both smiling in the darkness.
There was no declaration of love but it was certainly romantic, at least in Jake's eyes.
He smiles as he bides his time in the shadows, watching the two alters dance around each other like songbirds.
They'll admit their feelings soon enough, he's sure. He'll make certain of it.
*
"So you're the guy Steven's been telling me about," Marc says knowingly, one eyebrow raised.
Jake freezes, guilty. He's not sure how Marc sensed his presence but he supposes this meeting was always going to happen eventually. He only hopes that Marc won't ask him any difficult questions about his relationship with Khonshu. That would certainly throw a wrench in his plans.
"I'm Jake," Jake says after a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation. "Jake Lockley. Hola."
"Sure," Marc agrees placidly, not letting his guard down as he stares Jake down in the reflective microwave door. "What can I do for you, you bloodthirsty son of a bitch? Usually you just pop in, maim, and disappear again, and then I wake up from a blackout."
"Not nice," Jake says, frowning. "I'm protecting you two pair of pendejos."
"Huh... I suppose that's actually true," Marc admits, disgruntled. He allows some of the tension to bleed from his frame. He knows there's no point fighting Jake. He's part of their system, even if Marc hadn't truly realised that until now. "So... uh... what can we do for you?"
"I'm playing Cupid," Jake says, rolling his eyes. "Obviamente."
"Hey!" Marc says sharply. "Who are you to say I need Cupid?!" He must realise how ridiculous he sounds as he argues with himself in the microwave because he falls instantly silent, blushing. "I'd say I'm doing just fine as I am, thank you very much."
"Eh, doubtful," Jake says, shrugging nonchalantly. "The poetry was good but not enough... and your efforts at buying Steven chocolate were even lazier. You'll have to try harder than that if you want to win him over."
Marc is about to bluster something defensively before he actually processes what his alter has just revealed.
"Wait..." Marc hesitates, biting his lip. "So all those notes? The book? That was you?"
"Of course," Jake says, pretending to examine his nails in the reflection. Marc suspects he's probably checking there's no blood under them. "I am a romantic at heart after all. What can I say? I just love love."
"That's cute, dude," Marc says, smirking. "Never knew you cared."
"Shut up," Jake snaps. "I'm here to tell you that that takeaway you ordered last night? Not the way to win Steven's heart."
"I don't think he really -"
"Silence!" Jake is glowering ferociously from the microwave's small door. Marc tries not to notice how funny he looks. "You need to cook for Steven if you truly wish to show him that you care." He points a threatening finger at Marc. "And not a steak! Steven is a vegan. You should make him something he'll actually enjoy."
Marc pulls a face and tries to think of a reason to disagree. Nothing immediately comes to mind.
Jake suppresses his smug smile at the obvious play of emotions on Marc's face.
"Fine," Marc says at last. "I'll do it... but not because you told me to. Because it's a good idea." He hesitates, sulking, before a confused frown suddenly creases his brow. "Why are you helping me?"
Jake watches Marc evenly, unspeaking as he weighs up his options. In the end, he settles on a half-truth.
"It's like I said to Steven," Jake explains with a shrug. "I want some peace and quiet. Your constant half-hearted flirting bores me."
And because I care about you both and want you to be happy, Jake adds silently... but he will never admit that aloud. Not to anybody.
*
Steven adores the dinner, as Jake had known he would.
Marc makes a vegan variation of the food his grandmother used to prepare when he visited her as a child: cholent with root vegetables and baked beans, crispy potato latkes, and a honey cake for after.
Steven finishes his meal in record time and sits smiling so gratefully into the mirror Marc has set out that it becomes impossible for Marc to maintain his unreasonable air of grumpiness. He feels only proud and fond instead.
"Oh my days, this was good," Steven declares, patting his stomach contentedly as he sits back in his chair. The lamplight paints his face golden as his smile becomes wistful. "Bubbe used to make cholent just like this. I forgot how much I missed it."
For some reason Marc can't identify, his heart begins to hammer in his chest.
"I'll make you it whenever you want," he says quietly, earnest. The uncertainty inside him falls away as harmlessly as autumn leaves drifting on the breeze. "You know I'd do anything for you."
"You already have done," Steven whispers. His dark eyes glisten wetly in the muted light, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he remembers waking up in the Duat, with Marc frozen before him and their heart in their hands.
Steven reaches out shakily towards the mirror, resting his hand against the glass and humming contentedly when Marc reaches for him too, palm pressed against palm.
Although Marc can't feel Steven's touch, he remembers the warmth of him as he held Marc close, the soft brush of Steven's curls against his skin, the comforting weight as Steven had barrelled into him and embraced him tightly enough that Marc would remember the feeling of Steven in his arms forever.
"I'm so glad I didn't lose you," Marc whispers, voice thick with emotion. Steven smiles faintly, his eyes wet with tears.
"You won't," he promises and, somehow, Marc believes him. "It's like I said to Khonshu, innit? We're a package deal now, no matter how bonkers that sounds."
"Well, we've always been pretty bonkers," Marc points out, laughing. He rises to clear the plates away, unaware of the way Steven is watching him from the mirror, his eyes glitter-soft and tender.
"He likes you," Jake says quietly, just for Marc. "Well done."
"Shut up," Marc mutters but he can't deny that his heart soars at those words.
He smiles all evening.
*
Jake has so many ideas about how he'll finally get Marc and Steven to admit that they're in love.
He's thought about making them write letters to each other, reciting poetry, choosing songs that reflect their feelings, even icing cookies with little messages on, like those Love Heart sweets Jake likes so much.
In the end, it's not necessary.
Marc puts back the bagel he'd selected when he realises Steven would like banana on toast for breakfast and adds some cinnamon to their coffee without Steven having to ask, just because he knows he prefers it that way.
For once, Steven's tidied away his stacks of books and scribbled notes from the desk, and a scented candle is burning there, filling the air with the smell of vanilla. It's Marc's favourite candle but he'd finished it a few weeks ago. Steven must have snuck out to replace it without Marc realising.
There's something building in Marc's chest, something golden and bright, burning away the fear inside him and bursting forth in three beautiful, terrifying words.
"I love you," he says, setting down the banana skin and reaching clumsily for Steven's reflection in the mirror on the table. His hands are shaking as he strokes Steven's cheekbone with his fingertips. "You know that, don't you?"
Steven touches his own face, where he wishes Marc was touching him.
"I do," Steven says faintly, smile growing. "Oh my days, I really do. I love you too, you wally."
Marc lets out a burst of relieved laughter, rubbing his eyes as though he can scarcely believe he isn't dreaming. It's quiet as the sun continues its slow rise outside. They smile at each other in the mirror.
Marc takes a thoughtful sip of coffee before he pulls a face, pretending to be annoyed.
"It's not nice to call someone a wally when they've just professed their undying love for you," he points out, smirking. "You might hurt my feelings."
"Oh, poor baby," Steven says sarcastically, eyes sparkling. "Will you need a kiss to feel better?'
Marc flushes scarlet and splutters something unintelligible, and Steven smiles serenely as he takes control and begins to slice up the banana. He's glowing with happiness and, from the mirror, so is Marc.
There's nothing but love and tranquility filling the apartment, and Jake lets out a sigh of relief.
Finally. Peace at last.