Steven Grant / Marc Spector (Fandom High)

Marc didn't want to talk to anybody. In general, really, but particularly not this weekend. With like two notable exceptions. But Marc often didn't get what he wanted so here he was on the phone with Layla. ( Having the following conversation... )

Marc then went to find Watts.

[for Watts]

Marc had some lingering opinions on this. Don't, for example. A sensation not at all discouraged by the sight of whatever the fuck colored deer with red noses wandering around town in a way that vaguely stirred annoyance in him but not so Marc could remember why exactly?

Unimportant or just some quirk of Marc's brain, clearly.

Anyway, there was also the this which was a lot of impulse and not much thinking and Marc didn't want to think about it, frankly. Which meant he could go home and forget it all. That was an option. It was an option highly likely to result in Steven giving him pointed stares of I'm not saying anything from reflections, but it was an option.

Finally Marc figured fuck it and texted Harley.

You home?

[for she who lives here]

It was Llewellyn's birthday, which first and foremost meant Steven was taking the day off.

Well, technically the first thing was that a bottle was left out on the kitchen counter for Llewellyn to find which simply bore a note of "M" on it.

But after that was taking the day off so that Steven and Llewellyn could portal over to Steven and Marc's (and Llewellyn's now, technically) home universe for a couple of days of celebrating.

Steven and Llewellyn had checked in to their room which was complete with a welcome snack basket, but also a bouquet of red roses, a bottle of champagne, and chocolate dipped strawberries.

They then immediately headed out to go whale watching, and were lucky enough to leave with ample sightings and pictures to remember them by.

After going to their room to wash up and change - Steven into his light linen suit, just for the occasion - they then traveled to the fairgrounds where a food truck festival was being held. It was here that there would be birthday dinner. Or at least traveling from truck to truck and probably sampling every single vegan option they could find, which turned out to be many.

"Where would you like to start?" Steven asked Llewellyn.

[for the birthday beau. NFB due to distance]

It wasn't that Marc had planned or anticipated or anything. It was just that there'd been some amount of time (don't ask him to specify how much, he didn't keep track of these things) and that had left him with the ability to idly ponder his options.

For instance, he could rent a bike but that required returning it in something like good condition. He could buy a bike but then he'd have to remember to take care of it.

Or he could borrow one. From someone who maybe didn't deserve nice things. Win/win, right?

Well maybe not for the guy the bike belonged to but again: didn't deserve nice things. Marc wasn't losing sleep over it.

Which was why come Tuesday evening, after running some errands (so to speak), Marc was in the parking lot by the causeway, dressed in his usual dark on dark, while leaning up against a new to him bike.

A bike which he may or may not have unconsciously gravitated towards because of the color scheme, regardless of the other reasons he'd picked it.

(The fact that it was not a Harley Davidson was, in fact, very much on purpose. Even Marc could guess she was probably sick of those jokes.)

On the back seat there was a candy apple red helmet. That one he had bought because he wasn't taking a chance on safety. If Harley did that was her business, but he wanted the option there for her if she wanted it.

No, he wasn't wearing one and didn't intend to. When you couldn't stay dead you didn't worry about these kinds of things.

Now all he needed was the person who'd said she'd meet him here.

[for the wild card, NFB due to distance]

After a day of preparation - during which Steven fretted far too much (and Llewellyn did his best to ease said fretting) - things were ready for dinner. The house was clean, or at least the first floor was clean enough for company if you ignored the much used kitchen, the lighting was set to be dim enough for relaxing but not so dim no one could see anything, and there was soft music playing in the background.

( When guests arrived they would find… )

With everything now ready, all that was missing was the guests.

[open for the boarding house residents and great slow play justice]

When Marc went back to the private residence side after, yanno, everything Watts had taken one look at him and poured them both a drink.

Luckily that hadn't resulted in any singing on either of their parts. Possibly because the booze was thoughtfully getting in the way.

Regardless, Marc eventually decided the thing to do was go to bed and call the day a wash. If the alcohol didn't take care of it, maybe going unconscious would.

It wasn't yet midnight though - no pun on the name of the building intended. Which meant the island's fuckery was still in effect.

Which also meant, in turn, that somewhere in the far back of Marc's mind, someone was singing a song that he'd translated into Spanish.

Of course, Marc never heard that. Steven didn't either. Maybe the faintest ghost of a melody floated out to them but...

Nah. Nothing there.

Funny, that.

[establishy. Watts's part per the man himself, so to speak.]

Marc having the body to run errands during the day meant he could also leave a wrapped Hanukkah gift for Watts on the island in the kitchen.

As for Steven, he and Watts had agreed to do their gifts that night. So after dinner (Cuban, Steven had been in the mood for it) and the lighting of their menorahs the library was set for just that sort of thing. A fire was going in the fireplace. All sorts of candles were about - though whether those were candles provided by the island or Midnight making illusions to get into the spirit of the island's event of the day was uncertain - and a general cozy atmosphere was had.

Steven sat on the couch and nibbled on one of the churros they'd ordered for dessert. Had the dinner order been an excuse for the dessert order? Entirely possible. There was caramel dipping sauce, he could in no way be blamed.

Raphael was curled up on his lap and all that was needed was the beau for gift exchanges.

[for the beau for gift exchanges. NFB please.]

After having a coffee Marc headed over to the new place.

Things were coming along. The sign had updated itself to now read Midnight Manor Boarding House.

There was also an intercom of sorts by the front door, above which was a handwritten note which said Still under construction. Ring the bell if you'd like one of us to let you in which of course had been written by Steven.

Inside was less of a work in progress than it had been. The boarding house side felt pretty much done as far as what rooms they wanted and the overall layout. There was a lot of dark, polished wood, shiny brass, and Egyptian symbolism all over the place. Marc also had a nagging feeling that there were images of Khonshu hidden around as well but he refused to look closely to confirm it.

Then there was his office.

Sigh.

Not that Marc thought they were going to be inundated with applicants to live in the place now or, frankly, ever. But he did have some very firm opinions on checking out anybody who wanted to. So sure, an office. Currently it was pretty bare bones with Steven's desk and a spare chair from their dining room set as a stop gap solution. But it was a place to get away from all the boxes over in their home so sure, Marc could use it.

Plus it was as good a place as any to go over the writeup Steven had done to explain how Midnight worked for new residents and make some heavy edits. Man Steven could ramble.

[open. As the sign says, ring bell to have someone open the door]

As the message had said, come Saturday morning it was time for those interested in the rescue mission to gather around the Hermit Shack and prepare. ( And listen to an awesome speech )

[Open to rescuers or those who'd like to observe. Everything that happens outside of the House is okay for broadcast, inside NFB please.]

Steven was rather proud of his preparations for Llewellyn's birthday dinner. The Korean food they'd agreed on was there and keeping warm until they were going to serve. The table was set as nicely as Marc and Steven's collections of plates and silverware allowed. There were candles going to help lend atmosphere.

There was a wrapped present ready, which Steven was rather proud of. He was proud of his choice for entirely the wrong reasons (it had a watch pocket!) but he was proud all the same. The cake he'd ordered had arrived on time and was in the kitchen ready to go.

Steven himself was dressed in his dark blue suit with the tie and pocket square Llewellyn had given him. And even Raphael was dressed for the occasion with his regular collar swapped out for something new and posh.

All that was needed was the guest of honor. ( What could possibly go wrong? )

[Establishy.]