Year Three of making the MarcNath Zine. This couldn't have been done without the hard work of the NathMarc Multiverse Discord members, who put their time, talent, and dedication into making this happen for the third year in a row. We thank you all. The MarcNath 2023 Zine Development Team
Opposites attract, but equals are a good match, too By Andromeda612 on AO3 ━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— It’s said that polar opposites attract each other, and barring the actual law of magnetism, the same principle could be applied to people. However, just because some people can be opposites doesn’t mean they can’t also be very similar. And just because they are equal doesn’t mean they aren’t a good match. It’s a balance between what’s the same and what’s different, how they complete each other and how they relate to each other. And Marc and Nathaniel just happen to be such a couple. ━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— Morning person/Night owl Marc is the first one to wake up. He has always been when they were teenagers and had sleepovers, and he still is the first one awake now that they are living together, with stable and amazing jobs and five years of dating. It’s very rare for him to sleep in. But then again, he has always been an early bird. Like usual, he is cuddled into his boyfriend’s arms, and he takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of Nathaniel’s sleepy face. He kisses his forehead before carefully extracting himself from the redhead’s arms. Nathaniel doesn't even twitch. The black-haired man stretches once he gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom to splash some water in his face to wash away the remaining of sleep and start the day. He ties his long hair into a messy bun and quietly goes to the kitchen to start breakfast for the both of them. Nathaniel wakes up slowly and unwillingly. If it was up to him, he would just stay in bed sleeping all day, but his body has other plans…
It also doesn’t help the emptiness he feels in his arms, which means his boyfriend is already awake like usual and out of bed. He sleeps better with Marc in his arms. His dear Mal’aj gives them best cuddles after all, and since he is not there, that means any attempt to fall back to sleep are lower now. Good grief who invented mornings? He slowly stands up and brushes his bangs away from his face. He idly makes a mental note he needs to get a cut soon, his bangs are getting longer and his undercut is growing too. As he stands up from bed, he can smell something delicious, which means Marc is making breakfast. The redhead drags his feet slowly out of their shared room and goes to the kitchen to find his boyfriend, long hair in a messy bun, stirring something in a pan and singing quietly along to some song playing on his phone. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of his partner, so chipper and at ease. He honestly has no idea how Marc does it, being so full of energy at such an unholy hour, but that’s just one of the many things he loves about him. Marc is just finishing the last of breakfast when he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his waist from behind and warm breath on his neck. “Good morning, my Prince.” “M’ning, Mal’aj.” Nathaniel’s voice comes muffled from where he has his face pressed in the crook of Marc’s neck, but the writer hears him all the same. He giggles a bit from both the sleepiness of his partner’s voice and the tickles from the words spoken into his skin. He wordlessly plates their food and walks to the table, the redhead still clinging to him all the time until he gets him to let go so he can sit to eat. Marc can’t help but giggle again at his boyfriend’s face. “I hate mornings, I don’t know how you do it,” Nathaniel complains while yawning.
Marc simply smiles at him and hands him a cup of steaming coffee. He watches fondly how Nathaniel’s entire face lights up at the sight of the dark beverage. “Have I already told you I love you so much? Because I really love you a lot, Marc, you are the best and your coffee is a Godsend.” The artist takes a long sip of the coffee, enjoying the warm sensation and the bitter taste, coffee— especially Marc’s— is the only thing that keeps him functioning so early. “I love you too, Nath,” Marc replies, taking a sip of his own coffee, his much sweeter than Nathaniel’s and with a bit of milk. He honestly has no idea how his boyfriend can drink it plain black, just another thing about being a night owl he supposes. And like that another day starts in the Anciel-Kurtzberg home. ━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— Horror fans Marc and Nathaniel arrive hand in hand, costumes and make-up perfectly done for the Horror Media Fest. This festival is a new event they proudly helped to organize and promote along with the guild of writers and artists in Paris and several editorials and studios for October. The idea is simple. The event is nothing but a love letter to the horror genre in different mediums, novels, movies, video games, graphic novels, art, music and more, as well as an opportunity for new creators to break into the industry. They arrive in time for the opening where they will be giving a speech, and after that they are free to enjoy the fruits of their hard work.
The opening ceremony goes without a hitch and they are left to enjoy themselves in the world of horror media and new projects. The happy couple marvel at the displays of art and the stages with actors recreating scenes from nightmares. They go around trying the horrorthemed food and taking pictures with fans and people they admire. The best part is how much everyone else is enjoying the event, too. It makes them proud for being part of it and make it all the more enjoyable. Probably this is not the dictionary definition of a romantic date. But when you are horror fans as dedicated as them, then walking around while hand-in-hand with horror costumes and looking at scary stands, is the definition of perfect. ━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— Sweet tooth/ Salty lover Nathaniel is browsing the convenient store in his quest for snacks for his and Marc’s movie marathon. They have had some busy days between their projects and are in need of some fun time, just the two of them. A movie marathon was what they agreed on. So while Marc is building a blanket nest in their living room for them, Nathaniel is getting snacks. One thing he loves about their screen marathons is the variety of stuff they get to eat. Marc has a massive sweet tooth, so sugary things like chocolates, ice cream or cookies are always present in their home and especially on nights like this. He on the other hand is more fond of salty things, so a large variety of chips, pretzels and crackers were also often in their cupboards and were a must for movie nights.
Then it was their middle ground, which is surprisingly spicy food. They both can handle spice surprisingly well. When they are really bored, they even have competitions to see who can handle more spice. So spicy snacks are on their menu often. When he has a varied and large enough amount of snacks, Nathaniel happily goes to the register, pays, and goes home with a spring in his step. He can’t wait for his alone time with his wonderful boyfriend, in the comfort of their home and enjoying their snacks. Really, sometimes the simplest of dates are the best ones. ━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— Introverts Today is the musical festival. All around the city people are getting ready, either preparing their stages or meeting with friends to go around all the different stages around the city to listen to some good and loud music. However, in a nice apartment, a couple is getting ready to stay all day in home and not go out unless the world is ending. A redhead is receiving their take-out food while a dark-haired man is preparing their living room to make it comfortable and cozy. Once the living room is ready— with a blanket nest, the tv on, snacks around and their fast food ready to eat— the two get comfy in the blanket nest while scrolling through their options to decide what to watch. Maybe the city is getting ready for a day full of music, noise and crowds, but Marc and Nathaniel are more than happy with a day full of cuddles, tv, food and each other.
━━━━━━✧⚜✧—————— Polar opposites attract and same views relate to each other, but those are not mutually exclusive. They create balance and can make life a little bit more beautiful, especially with the correct match. ━━━━━━✧⚜✧——————
Tomorrow By ASingleRaindrop on AO3 “Good morning, Marc!” “Morning Zoé!” Marc placed his bag down and took his seat next to his classmate. He was one of the last to arrive, and Zoé had made sure to save a place for him. Aurore and Mireille were in front of them discussing an upcoming Kidz+ promotion, while Jean was showing a new magic trick to a new transfer student next to him, a dark-haired boy named Céleste. “It’s strange not having everyone else here.” Zoé sighed, looking out the window at the courtyard. With the start of a new school year, almost all the friends she made had graduated to lycée, leaving just her and Marc. The reason she chose her current desk was because it was where Marinette used to sit, and being here made Zoé feel closer to her, like she wasn’t far away in another school.
“We can still meet the gang on weekends, and Mr. Monlataing said everyone would be welcome to come back and visit when he’s there.” Marc placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “You’re taking this well. I don’t know how I’ll do. It was already so much coming here from New York last year, and now everything’s changed again.” “It feels different. But I think we’ll be okay,” Marc looked back around the room, seeing Céleste giggling at a joke Jean made, and Jean blushing slightly. “We don’t have akumas to worry about now, and we can still have zany matchmaking meetings.” Zoé turned to look and giggled behind her hand as Jean leaned in to whisper something, only to pull a coin from behind Céleste’s ear. He laughed heartily in response, right before the door of the classroom opened and a man in a formal business suit walked in. He set a briefcase down on the desk, opening it to remove a thick stack of neatly organised papers. He adjusted his thick framed reading glasses before clearing his throat to address the class. “Good morning. I’m Mr. Lambert, your English teacher, and your form teacher. And I’d like to welcome you back to another year of learning at Francois Dupont.”
As Mr. Lambert talked about how to register for a locker and the upcoming student representative elections next month, Marc discreetly took his phone out under the desk. He smiled as he saw his phone background, a selfie that he had taken with Nathaniel during their last date. “Aww, you miss him already?” Zoé teased quietly. “Ssh!” Marc nudged her, and they both quickly stifled their giggles before they got in trouble on the first day back. Adjusting to a new school is always a struggle, especially when you don’t know anybody there. Nathaniel was anxiously hugging his art binder to his chest, doing his utmost to avoid eye-contact with everyone as he walked into his new art classroom. At first glance it was like any other room; simple worktables, a whiteboard up the front, some sliding doors on one side of the room. It felt a bit austere, since Nathaniel was used to Mr Monlataing’s art room where the walls were lined with work of students, demonstrating their achievements. He took a seat at one of the empty tables in the corner, discretely looking around at all the faces he didn’t know. “Sorry I’m late everyone!” A woman rushed into the room, setting her takeaway coffee cup down before quickly unpacking items from some tote bags she was carrying. They looked
hand-made, and the material matched the hairband she was using to hold the mess of greying curly hair off her face. Once she had unpacked some binders full of documents, she had a quick look around at the group of students. “I’m Mrs. Campana, and I’ve been an art lecturer for… 15? 20 years? Right, let’s get to know all of you!” Mrs. Campana walked over to the sliding doors, pushing them open to reveal a large storage cabinet that took up one of the walls of the room. Nathaniel’s eyes lit up as Mrs Campana opened a few doors and drawers at random, pulling out various items to show the class. “Here’s paper, card, canvas boards, modelling clay… and there’s pencils, markers, all kinds of paints and brushes-oops!" She quickly reached to catch the jar of paintbrushes she knocked over, but only succeeded in scattering them all the way across the countertop. "Oh dear. Anyway, the first lesson: make something that shows me who you are. You’ve got the entire double period to work, so have fun!” The class was abuzz with activity as everyone started grabbing different things. A group of friends all took canvases and set them up on easels to paint a still life, a couple of others gathered scraps of coloured paper and scissors to start cutting and folding shapes, one student took out an inkstone from their bag and started mixing an ink stick. Nathaniel waited for the traffic to clear before going to take a single piece of drawing paper, briefly pausing to admire all the different thicknesses available, before returning to the desk and starting to sketch an outline. His hand naturally started drawing Ladybug and Chat Noir
in heroic poses, just like he had done thousands of times before. Nathaniel was comfortable here, in his own little world with his pencil on the page. He didn’t need to worry about anyone else. “…Excuse me, can I work here please?” Nathaniel looked up from his page, seeing a girl holding a pack of air-dry clay and a handful of sculpting tools. She was looking around nervously, trying to avoid looking at any of her classmates for too long. “Yeah… sure.” Nathaniel moved his bag to give the girl some space, and she offered a polite smile as she set down a work mat and started to work on the clay. They both sat in silence for a while, concentrating on their own projects. As Nathaniel finished the base sketch and picked up a pen to start inking, he caught a glimpse of the girl’s work. She was making a sculpture of Ladybug, using a pointed stick to carve tiny details into the surface of the clay. It looked so realistic, almost as if it could come to life and start moving at any moment. “That’s really good, the hair texture looks amazing,” Nathaniel complimented, leaning in have a closer look. The girl was surprised by it, but made a nervous chuckle and turned it around for him to see it.
“Thanks… I like yours too. You really captured their personalities.” She smiled down at his drawing, noting the confidence in Ladybug’s face and the playfulness in Chat Noir’s smirk. And then her eyes drifted further down to the exclamation point signature. “Wait, are you…” her voice trailed off as she was momentarily starstruck. “I’m Nathaniel,” he confirmed, and watched her internally melt down. She stuttered for about a minute before managing to compose herself. “That’s certainly a first impression I just made.” “You’re not the worst by far.” They both laughed a bit. She cleaned the clay on her hands onto a damp paper towel before offering a handshake. “I’m Sinéad.”
Thursday - 4:54pm marc.writes.stuff: How are you settling into your new school? nathcomics: i made a new friend a few days ago marc.writes.stuff: Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend? nathcomics: rude. i thought you’d be proud of me marc.writes.stuff: Of course I am. But babe… nathcomics: we have a lot in common. we’re both in the art programme, we don’t know anyone else, and our partners are in other schools. nathcomics: what about you? how’s dupont without the whole gang? marc.writes.stuff: It’s quieter. The Art Club is a bit lonely without everyone. marc.writes.stuff: But we have a new transfer student. Céleste. He made a model Wright Flyer on his first day in Room 33. And Jean has started showing up to spend time with him. nathcomics: he just came in? he didn’t hide at the door, mumble out an introduction and run into a pole? marc.writes.stuff: Rude. nathcomics: i miss you. marc.writes.stuff: I miss you too. Did you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? nathcomics: sure, i think I’ll have time. see you tomorrow marc.writes.stuff:
“Did you have a slogan for your campaign?” Nathaniel asked as he filled out details on his A3 sketchpad. “We were thinking of ‘Making a Real Change’.” “Acronym, huh?” “Shut up,” Marc waited until Nathaniel’s pencil was off the page before nudging against his leg. “We didn’t have any better ideas. We’re running against someone who swept a popularity contest for all of Paris. And her deputy was the runner up.” “I think the slogan is good. It really represents the two of you.” Nathaniel smiled down at his sketchpad, adding a little sparkle into Marc’s eyes on the drawing. He briefly set his pencil down so he could have another sip of his coffee before it became too cold. “Zoé became a lot more confident after she moved here; organising the class dance, helping Mylène with her campaigns, she even organised a staff appreciation day at the hotel. And you’ve come out of your shell a lot too since we met. You’re the one bringing people to our tables at conventions, and you’re the lead striker of your soccer club. Not to mention all the other bold extra-curricular activities.”
“Shhh!” Marc shushed him, looking around to see if anyone in the café had heard him. “Don’t kid around about that, Nathaniel.” They both laughed softly. “I have to admit, that was one of the reasons I wanted to run for representative this year. Being a part of something greater like that, it encouraged me to do more. I want to run for representative because of everything I learned; about speaking up for myself, looking out for others, and believing in everything that I could do. And that sometimes you need help to make miracles happen.” “Like free boyfriend commissions?” “Like free boyfriend commissions.” Marc nodded, leaning back in the booth and taking a minute to admire Nathaniel’s face. He had that familiar look in his eyes, one of intense focus and concentration; devotion to his craft. “How have you been doing in your classes?
“Mostly alright. Your note taking tips make it a lot easier to concentrate, so I’m keeping up with all the class work.” Nathaniel looked up from the drawing as he spoke about his new school. “I’m trying all kinds of new things too. There’s a printing press and photography lab in the art block, and the other day Sinéad was showing me how to make something on her potter’s wheel.” “How romantic,” Marc teased. Nathaniel rolled his eyes with a laugh as he resumed drawing the campaign poster. “She really wants to meet you, Marc. Every time I mention you, she wants to organise a double date.” “I’ll be happy to once things calm down. When the class election is over, I’ll have more time.” They fell silent for a while, with the two of them just enjoying each other’s company as Nathaniel’s pencil danced over the page. It was comforting to know that this hadn’t changed, and they could easily spend time together saying everything they needed to with silence.
“By the way, Marc. What you said about learning to believe in everything you could do, that was really inspiring.” Nathaniel showed Marc the finished poster design, featuring Zoé and him standing back-toback in confident stances. They were surrounded by bubbles holding little illustrations of their interests, like books and a soccer ball for Marc, and theatre masks and paints for Zoé. The whole image was framed by a flowing ribbon banner, currently left blank in case they changed their minds about the slogan. “I think you’ll make a great representative.” Marc took a moment to admire the poster, before sliding both of their drinks to the side so he could lean over the table to kiss him. Wednesday - 7:24pm marc.writes.stuff: Mr Lambert cried at one of my stories again. nathcomics: wow. which one was it? marc.writes.stuff: The Lonely Guitarist nathcomics: no wonder. everyone cried at that one. poor mr lambert didn’t stand a chance marc.writes.stuff: You would have no idea he was such a softie by looking at him.
marc.writes.stuff: Have you made any of your teachers cry? nathcomics: not yet. mrs campana adores me for now marc.writes.stuff: Still part of the Lefties’ club, huh? nathcomics: i can’t help it if we have the superior handedness. marc.writes.stuff: It sounds sinister. nathcomics: that joke stopped being funny three weeks ago marc.writes.stuff: Not to me nathcomics: how are the matchmaking meetings going? marc.writes.stuff: We schedule them right after the Representative meetings. So far, they’re a success. Jean asked Céleste if he wanted to go out for ice cream after class today. nathcomics: remember when we used to do that after class? i miss those days now marc.writes.stuff: I do too. But we still catch up when we can. We’re both going to Alix’s birthday in a few weeks, and then there’s the monthly comic session. nathcomics: marc, you’re my boyfriend. even if i’m busy, i should still make a little time for you. can you come over tomorrow? marc.writes.stuff: Okay. What do you want to do? nathcomics: anything. or nothing marc.writes.stuff: Sounds perfect. See you tomorrow. nathcomics: see you tomorrow
“How long has it been now?” “Two… maybe three months?” Marc’s voice came out lazily in his half-asleep state. It was hard to stay awake with his head resting on Nathaniel’s chest, with the afternoon sun casting dappled shadows over them between the leaves of the tree above them. He felt the warmth of the artist’s fingers brushing through his hair, lulling him into a state of deep relaxation he never through he would achieve again after his last mock test. “Does it feel different to you?” “What, dating?” Marc’s eyes opened as Nathaniel asked the question. He had his head leaned back against the trunk, staring up at the leaves in contemplation. His hair was getting a bit longer, almost long enough to tie back. Marc reached up to brush some off his boyfriend’s face. “I thought it would, not seeing you every day. I was scared we might become distant…” “We didn’t, though.” Marc reached to hold Nathaniel’s hand. “I miss seeing you across the courtyard every day, but it means I get to look forward to catching up at weekends or during meetups with our friends.”
“I wonder if we should stop saying ‘See you tomorrow’ if we’re not actually seeing each other tomorrow...” “Nah.” Marc pulled himself up so he could sit with his back to the tree as well, gently lacing his fingers between Nathaniel’s. “When we say, ‘See you tomorrow,’ we’re just not sure when tomorrow is now. It could be the next day, or maybe in a few days. It might even be weeks away.” “So, we’ll always be waiting for tomorrow.” “Yes, but in a good way.” Marc leaned in to rest his head against Nathaniel’s. “I’m happy to wait for tomorrow, whenever it is. Because it’s when I get to see you again.” Nathaniel chuckled. It was such a corny line, but it was so perfect as well. Any worries he had about drifting away from Marc were quickly fading away from hearing his kind, sweet words. Of course they wouldn’t lose each other, if anything he loved Marc more than ever. And Nathaniel was sure Marc felt the same about him. They both leaned in closer, eyes fluttering half closed. Their lips barely touched when they both paused, knowing that they wanted to hear the words said aloud.
‘I love you.’ It was barely a whisper, but more than enough for them as they eagerly held their kiss. All the hours they were separated felt insignificant compared to the warmth and love of this moment. No matter how long they spent apart, they would always wait happily for tomorrow.
NathMarc (By: BooksRBetterThanPeople) With a flick of the redhead’s wrist, a television appears against the wall. Biting his lip in thought, he creates a wooden console around the television with a stereo built into it. Modest, but still something to brag about. “Dear could you give me a hand? I’m not sure about the placement of the couch and armchair.” “Of course. From here to there. Reversion!” In the blink of an eye, the two pieces of furniture swap places. Nathaniel gives Marc’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “It’s perfect.” In the blink of an eye, a framed photograph depicting the two wrapped in each other’s arms appears in his hand. Now they no longer needed to hide the treasured item whenever guests came over. When they bought their new home in the neighborhood of Dans Le Placard, Nathaniel wasted no time erasing their belongings with his powers. It wasn’t a lot considering they lived in a studio apartment as “young bachelors,” but it sure made it easier for Nathaniel to memorize their belongings. With so much more room, Nathaniel had many ideas on how to decorate their new home. He’ll be up all night arranging and rearranging everything. Well, not if Marc has anything to say about it. A look of alarm suddenly crosses Marc’s face. He rushes to the window and stands in front of it. “Careful! We can’t have the neighbors seeing.” Nathaniel shoots him a look and sets the photo down. “You say while one half of your face is white and the other half is black.” His partner pauses for a moment and steps to the side before anyone sees him. “C’mere, you.” Nathaniel rests his hands on Marc’s face, replacing his monochromic skin with a light tan complexion. “There you go.” The noirette kisses his forehead and is about to go back in the kitchen when suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Marc whispers, “Draw some moving boxes! They need to think we’re just moving in.” In a hurry, Nathaniel makes a couple of boxes of various sizes appear. They make their way over to the door while fixing themselves up. They give each other a look over before Nathaniel opens the door, letting in two young women, one blonde and one brunette.
“Hi, neighbors!” The brunette woman greets with a smile. “Name’s Cosette Bellamy, a pleasure to meet you both.” “I’m Zoé Lee, we’re your neighbors to the right. Sorry for the late pop-in. All of us would have stopped by with a few housewarming gifts but-” Cosette interrupts with some bite in her voice, “Her mother was visiting.” Zoé quirks an eyebrow. “What? Your mother tells us she’s on her way, we warn everyone, drink in the attic, and go back to our usual normalcy when she leaves. A couple of us are still hungover.” She perks up. “So, what are your names? Where are you from? How’s your bridge game?” “It would also be nice to know your pronouns,” Zoé adds. “Marc Anciel.” He shakes the blonde’s hand. “He and him.” “Nathaniel Kurtzberg, also he and him.” “Cosette Bellamy, she, they, and it. And this lovely lady beside me is very much a lesbian, so don’t get any ideas,” she half-jokes. “Oh, no need to worry, then.” Nathaniel points to Marc. “This one is about as hetero as the earth is flat.” The two burst out laughing as Marc and Zoé give each other understanding looks. “Stop by for a few drinks if the puns start getting to you,” Zoé offers. “Oh, I see you’ve got an open-door policy!” A sweater-clad man beams as he walks in, followed by a bespectacled who gives a sweet but mousy smile. “Jean Duparc and my lovely partner, Austin Tomassian. Gosh, it is so darn refreshing to have some new faces around here. I love these folks, but sometimes, you just wanna hop in your car and keep driving.” He lets out a boisterous laugh. “I kid, I love it here.” Austin greets the two with a slight bow of his head. “It’s lovely to meet you both. Just know, you both can pop by any time if you need help unpacking.” He taps one of the large unopened cardboard boxes, and the others are surprised by how easily it tips over. “Oh! That’s just a box of… Pillowcases,” Nathaniel quickly says.
Jean lightly slaps Austin’s arm. “I told you it’s not weird to pack pillowcases, ya silly! Well, Marc, Nathaniel, we best not overstay our welcome. As Austin said, let us know if you need an assist.” “Oh, that’d be lovely, but I think we’ve got things handled,” Marc assures. “Thank you.” Austin nods and ushers Jean out. “No problem.” “Let us know if you feel like brunch!” Jean hollers on their way out. “We better be on our way, too,” Zoé says. “Let the others know the old harbinger of doom is gone and it’s safe to come out.” Before Cosette could crack a quick pun, Zoé was already ushering it out and closing the door behind them. “Doesn’t seem like they suspect a thing,” Marc chirps. “Let me know if you need a hand,” he says and heads back into the kitchen. With a wave of Nathaniel’s hands, the boxes disappear. He furnishes the living room from top to bottom, giving it a mid-century modern look, including some paintings on the wall and a chandelier. “Perfect.” “Sorry for barging in,” Cosette says when it suddenly walks in. “I think my earring…” When it begins to settle in that the living room they saw earlier is now fully furnished, Cosette’s mouth hangs open. “How -” “Oh, we don’t like slacking,” Nathaniel quickly says. “Is this your earring?” He opens his hand to reveal a hastily made gold stud and hopes they won’t be able to tell the difference. By some miracle, Cosette forgets about the living room “Thank you; so much!” With a wave, she closes the door behind her right as Marc walks back in with his left hand missing. “Darling, what happened?” “The sink works.”
“And right over there with the gorgeous flower bed is Aurore and Mireille.” Yesterday came and went, and by the next, the couple found themselves on a tour of their new neighborhood, courtesy of Jean. “You’ll easily know who’s who because Aurore never leaves home without a parasol. Now, next to them is Denise and Simon, one of our few married couples around these parts... Actually, the only one.” Nathaniel takes a moment to admire his surroundings. The neighborhood certainly is beautiful. It’s not too conformist like one of those tract house neighborhoods or filled with all sorts of commotion like back in the city. “Hi, there!” Greets a blonde woman sporting a curly bob. She wastes no time shaking his hand. “The name’s Lacey Greene, two years away from being a spinster according to every old bat I’ve ever met.” Before Nathaniel can respond, Jean interrupts. “Lacey! My beloved!” They greet each other with a quick air kiss. “I see you’ve met Nathaniel. He and his partner, Marc, just moved here.” “I saw, but I was a little tipsy when Audrey stopped by. Plus, I’m sure you two had a ton of unpacking to do.” The two men glance at each other and awkwardly laugh. “What a fun bunch you are! You’ve got to join us for game night on Friday.” “Shoot!” Jean smacks his forehead. “Almost forgot! She’s right, you need to join. If Simon flips over the game board, we each get fifty euros out of the sucker.” He and Lacey have their own banter over the memories. “What do you think, Nath? It could be fun.” “I guess. The reason we came here was to… Be normal,” he whispers, but Lacey and Jean seem too wrapped up in their own conversation to hear them. “… I say we go.” “Exactly what I was thinking.” He gives the redhead a chaste kiss. “Jean, Lacey? What time is game night?” “At seven sharp,” Lacey answers. “In between games, we’ll watch a bit of the tube. I hear that night is Elvis’ first national television appearance.”
“And, prepare to drink a lot.” Jean smirks. “Now, on with the rest of the tour. Simon should be giving the hedges a little trim, so we can give a quick hello.” Marc’s job offer at the TVi Studio was another one of the reasons he and Nathaniel moved. He was barely making anything before at the broadcast station in the city, the hours were awful, and the employees were such dolts. Here, he made a decent wage to help him, and his partner stay afloat while doing what he loved. And as a plus, Aurore and Mireille work at the studio as well. With one last Ding! of the typewriter, Marc removes the paper and staples it to a few more pages before setting that down on a large stack. He taps a few sheets back into place to the rhythm of the song someone has playing loudly on their radio, picks up the whole stack without a bit of effort and passes them along to Aurore and Mireille. “Here are a few drafts for the upcoming shows; just give them a look over, let me know in advance if changes are needed, and I can make any edits before they hit the teleprompters.” “Gee willikers,” Aurore gasps, grabbing some drafts to relieve Mireille. “You’re fast!” Mireille readjusts the stack in her hands to give herself a better grip. “Yeah. The music wasn’t a bother?” “In terms of distraction from work, or the nonsensical lyrics?” “... Yes.” “Oh, then no.” Noticing the odd look across Marc’s face, Mireille asks, “Hey, is something wrong?” “Not particularly, but can you tell me what sort of shows are done here exactly? Are news segments broadcasted across the nation?” “Nope,” Aurore answers. “Are talk shows filmed live where they feature talented children or up-and-coming bands?” Mireille shakes her head. “I don’t believe so.” “... Then, what is the purpose of this studio?” Aurore gives an award-winning smile, “Well, all I know is that ever since you’ve gotten here, productivity has gone up 300%.” With that, she and Mireille take their leave. “But what are we producing?” Aurore hollers over her shoulder, “See you for game night!”
Right. He and Nathaniel are attending game night at Jean and Austin’s house later. He knows that’s something he should be excited about, getting together with his neighbors, but he just can’t shirk the feeling that something is off, particularly how Aurore and Mireille just acted. … Maybe it’s nothing to get hung up over. “Enjoyed by young and old, swimming on a hot day has allowed many to have a little fun in the sun or relax on their backs for hours. And time certainly hasn’t changed the need to cool yourself off in other ways, too. Like… Taking a nice, refreshing sip from a cold bottle of Mendel Mocktails. With ten different flavors, you can have fun without having… Too much fun. Mendel Mocktails still manages to bring wholesome energy to your life, and helps you to continue to forget all of your troubles and woes beyond the tranquil water. Forget what’s beyond. Have a little fun… But not too much.” “Still can’t find that darn Ed Sullivan show,” Jean says while turning the television’s dial. His guests are on the couch setting up for the first game. “Ah, nuts to it. What game am I winning first?” He sits on the couch right as Austin comes in with a small tray of sandwiches. “I thought we’d play a little trivia.” Mireille holds up the cards. “Most points by the end of the deck wins… Whatever they’d like, such as Denise’s gorgeous espadrilles.” Denise gives them a warning look Aurore adds, “Quick note, this is a couples edition.” Ismael gives a dramatic groan. “Oh, hush. So, prepare for some drama if someone gets an answer wrong.” Lacey slings her arms around Jean and Austin’s shoulders. “Looks like we’re a throuple, boys! Whip out those cards, Aurore! I’m ready to whoop everyone!” “Lace, you know the rules. New neighbors goes first.” Zoé swirls his glass a bit. “This should be good. Let’s poke around in there.” “It’s just a way to get to know you guys.” Denise assures Marc and Nathaniel. “Your interests, where you lived before, and if you ever plan on tying the knot,” they croon as Simon takes their hand and kisses the silver band on their finger. A moment passes before Marc and Nathaniel burst into laughter, followed by everyone else. The couple each take a few sips of their drinks. Well, Nathaniel does, and makes about two ounces disappear from Marc’s glass. “Slow down,” Marc whispers to Nathaniel and then has to physically make him set down his glass when he keeps it up to his lips. “What’s the first question, Aurore?” “Marc, for five points, ‘What is your partner’s favorite pastime?’”
“Oh, he loves painting. I can’t picture a moment where he doesn’t have a bit of paint on his clothes.” Nathaniel blushes a bit as Jean coos. “He’ll also be sketching for hours on when he should be asleep.” Nathaniel gives him a quick elbow to the arm for the callout. “Take the hint, Marc,” Reshma mutters. “Quit while you can.” “Well, judging by Nathaniel’s expression, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s right.” Nathaniel nods. “Five points to the new neighbors!” Maybe someone would have heard Nathaniel’s hiccup if he hadn’t muffled it with his sleeve. And maybe they would have noticed the small addition to the card deck on the table. “This next one is for Team O’Connor-Cabello.” Aurore reads the next card. “Denise, for five points… ‘Why did you leave the city?’” “It does not say that.” Aurore shows the card. “It does say that. Well, Simon’s never told me about living in the city, so… Trick question! You’ve never lived in the city!” “They’re right,” he confirms. Now this time, Marc hears a quiet hiccup slip through the redhead’s lips. His eyes shoot wide open when another glass of martini appears on the table, somehow unnoticed by the others. Another hiccup escapes, resulting in a portrait identical to the one hanging on the wall appearing next to it. Nathaniel blanches and erases it. “Don’t worry,” Marc whispers. “Jean, Austin, would you mind if I grabbed a glass of water?” “Go right ahead,” Austin answers. Marc hurries his way to the kitchen. He grabs a glass but hesitates when he has to get water from the sink. He shakily holds the glass under the faucet and turns it on. With the glass half full, the noirette cuts the faucet off and heads back… … Only to trip over a loose tile. Water spills out and lands on his thumb. As his thumb disintegrates, he grabs the glass with his other hand before it can shatter on the floor. He heads back into the living room and hands Nathaniel the glass so he can take a few sips. Before he can show him what happened to his hand, Aurore speaks first. “Cosette, for five points, ‘What on earth are you running from?’” The room grows tense. “Yes, tell us what you are running from, Zoé,” Denise repeats. Met with silence, they sigh. “Mierda, I’ll pick another card.” The card they draw reads, “‘We can fix this, can’t we?’” Every eye in the room seems to be on Nathaniel rather than Cosette and Zoé. “...”
“Come on! Answer!” Jean goads and takes a quick bite of his sandwich. “Golly, how hard is it to answer such a s-simple-” Right, in the middle of his sentence, Jean reaches for his throat and coughs. “Jean?... Jean?!” Nathaniel blinks. “He’s choking!” He locks eyes with Marc. The noirette looks down at his hand with a brief look of shock. “Who knows the Heimlich?!” Nathaniel fixes his hand. The yell at each other to do something, anything to help Jean, but they don’t know what. “HelphimhelphimhelphimHELPHIM!” “... Marc, help him.” The noirette moves over to Jean. “From blocked to clear. Reversion.” In a small flurry of black and white, a paper airplane of those two colors materializes in his hand. He presses it into Jean’s neck. The brunette takes a big gasp of hair. There’s nothing but a deafening silence all around the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis Presley.” As if Jean nearly choking to death never happened, they all turn their attention towards the television and lean in close to get a closer look. When the man made his way onto the stage, slick pompadour first, Cosette and Denise had a few things to say. “What?! Elvis Presley is white?!” “Who all knew about this?!” It was nearly midnight when Marc and Nathaniel returned home, fifty euros richer after Simon flipped over a Monopoly game board when Lacey stole his property. “That was eventful, now wasn’t it?” Marc is quite for a moment. “When they brought up marriage, I wasn’t thinking much of it, but…” Nathaniel takes his hand, silently asking him to continue. “Being able to be out in the open like Denise and Simon… I’m sure it would be nice, right?” Nathaniel hums. “... Hold up your left hand.” He holds his hand up next to Marc’s and taps each of their ring fingers, making two gold bands appear. “What do you think?” The noirette wraps an arm around Nathaniel to pull him in closer. “I’ll wait as long as it takes until we can be together as husbands.” Touched by his words, Nathaniel closes the gap between them with a kiss. “I love you… Platonic roommate.”
Nathaniel snickers. “I love you, too, platonic roommate.” The two nestle into each other’s arms, blocking out the rest of the world. … … … .. .. .. . . . “TH!... ou… hear me?!...NATH!”
Skating Rink Christallized (A03) “Your first date and you choose this place? Maybe I taught you guys something about good taste after all,” Alix says, tightening her shoelaces. Her skates look much nicer than the old, brown, four-wheeled skates the rink had given them, but skates were skates as far as Marc was concerned. He looks over to Nath. His boyfriend seems to only be half-listening, watching the cheap disco balls spatter multi-coloured lights over the rink, where pretty much everyone but tired moms and too-small kids are gliding along the oval path. Did it count as a date since Alix was there? Did they need to do something official to count it as a date? From what Marc had read, most dates seemed to involve kissing, but the skating rink didn't really feel like the kind of place where people went to eat face. "I don't know," Marc says. "It was Nath's idea." "Yeah, an idea that he probably got from me." Alix crosses her arms smugly. "Goes to show you don't have to play the game to be a hell of a coach." "You? Teaching something about dates? Impossible." Nath waddles past her on his skates like a puffed penguin. "Jesus, how do you walk in these things?" "You don’t walk, dumbass, you skate. Which is what your whole date is about. You guys coming or what?” Marc can feel his knees locking up. “Maybe I should just sit here,” he starts, quietly. “Watch you two skate.” Nath stops, slowly rolling his way back to Marc's table. “That doesn’t seem like much of a date at all,” he says, sitting down next to him. "What is it?" "It's stupid." Nath places a hand over his. "Not to me." “Well…" Marc hesitates. "I've never skated before. What if I fall and break my arm or something? Alix keeps telling us all those stories of guys that get injured on the rink. Like that one girl who fell over the half-wall and slammed her head into the table, or the guy that twisted his leg really badly...” his ankle hurt just thinking about it. "Popped right out of his joint," Alix adds. Nath shoots her a stern look. "You're not helping." "It's just…it's a little scary." Marc could easily visualize himself in any of those situations, lanky limbs sprawled across the skating rink floor in a tragic fall, all his bones ruthlessly shattered by the surging sea of skaters as their wheels catch and tear into chunks of his hair, sending them all crashing, and his poor, broken, bald body trapped at the bottom of a pile of injured skaters. Man, that would be a nightmare.
Alix sighs, moving away from the rink’s entrance and back to his side. “Marc, I know you. You’re super careful about being safe. The only people who get injured are reckless dumbasses who don't look where they're going. You’ll be fine.” "Hey." Nath smiles gently at him, the kind of smile that doesn’t shine with the glare of a thousand beaming suns and radiates the world with its shine, but the soft smile that barely peeks, like a dim flashlight under blanket covers. A warmth that doesn’t announce itself to the world, but doesn’t need to. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” Nath assures. “I’m not a pro skater like Alix, but I can at least keep you from falling over.” Marc doesn’t need the light of the sun to melt in Nath’s smile or feel the heat rising to his face. “Thanks,” he murmurs, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. "Hold my hand tight," Nath instructs, gripping the guide rail as he helps Marc to his feet. "Oh, god." Marc's knees are locked together but his feet are sliding in different directions, slowly pulling him into the splits. "Oh, no!" "I've got you, I've got you." Nath digs his brakes in, anchoring in place. "It's easier once you're actually skating, and not just standing there," Alix mentions, easily gliding past. "See you on the rink." "Don't let go," Marc begs, staring into Nath's eyes. "I can't do this without you so please don't let go." Nath holds his hands tight. "Never." And then Nath is pulling him into the rink, under the sea of disco lights. Marc keeps a knuckle-white grip, struggling for balance as they start to merge into the crowd. "I'm gonna fall. I'm gonna fall. Nath, Nath help-" "Bend your knees," Nath says. "Don't panic. Keep your posture up-don't-stop leaning back!" "I'm not trying to lean back!" Marc pulls himself back upright with Nath's arm. Nath wobbles, trying to keep balance for both of them. Marc can see the other skaters starting to swerve away, giving them a wider berth. "Just follow my lead," Nath says, helping him back into balance. "Okay?" "Oh, god." "Push off with your left foot. Now your right foot. Just like that." Marc follows his instructions, eyes glued to his feet, heart pounding hard and fast to the rhythm of the song soaring overhead. "Keep going. You're getting the hang of it."
Slowly, the stumbling starts to feel more like gliding. The nerves in his bones start to feel more like thrill. Nath keeps his hand firm, no longer supporting, but guiding. "I think I've got it." Marc looks up. The wind blows past his face, cool and exciting. A laugh escapes his lips, quickly lost behind him at the speed. "I'm skating!" Nath's eyes are shining. "You are!" He's doing this. They're doing this. Marc shifts his grip to interlock their fingers. They move together, shifting balance and weight as though they were one body. When Nath turns into the tight inner circle of the rink, Marc locks his grip and swings with his momentum, the wind whistling in his ears. "Well, look who's a fast learner," Alix calls as she zooms past, easily skating backwards through the crowd. "You're not supposed to do that," Nath calls, but she's already darted away, a shock of pink lightning around the rink. "How is she going backwards?" "She's gonna injure herself," Nath comments, shaking his head. He pulls Marc a little closer. "My legs are getting tired." "Really? I'm feeling great." More than great. Incredible. Nath points over to some foam-lined wooden platforms on the far corners of the rink, where a few people are sitting. "I'm going over there. Do you want to join me or keep skating?" "I want to try going for a bit longer," Marc says, unlinking their hands. "I'll join you in a bit." Nath makes his way away towards the seats, swerving around a small five-year old on the outskirts of the crowd as he leaves. Skating without Nath is scarier. Still, Marc can't help but get lost in the flow of speed, the weightlessness of movement. Is this how Reverser had felt, flying across Paris with the wind whipping across his face? He catches a glimpse of Nathaniel out of the corner of his eye, sitting on one of the platforms, watching. He blows a kiss in his direction when he notices Marc looking back at him. "You looked to be enjoying yourself," Nath says, once Marc eventually skates his way over. "It's fun." Marc wobbles to an unsteady stop, plonking down next to his boyfriend. "You looked like a natural out there." Marc lets out a breathless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Did I?" "You sure you've never skated before?"
"I think I went to the ice rink once when I was like, nine." Marc fans his face. "Maybe we do that for another date. It's probably colder there." "Gosh, yeah." Nath pushes away the strands of red hair that have started to stick to his sweaty face and neck. Marc waits to catch his breath, watching some of the other people skating. There's that five-year old kid again, arms flailing as he catches the turn off-balance and falls forward with a thump on the ground. Nath snorts. "Nath," Marc chides. "What?" "That's mean." "But it's funny, though." Marc pouts at his boyfriend. "Look, he's getting up, he's fine. Kids fall all the time." "I guess." Marc rests his chin in his hands. "How long is Alix gonna keep skating for?" "As long as we let her." Nath sighs, looking up at the disco ball. "I don't know how she does it. Skating's actually a bit of a workout." "Eh, it's pretty easy." Nath huffs. "Alright, Mister Athlete. I see how it is." "What kind of a name is 'Mister Athlete'?" "A name for someone who says skating is easy after his first try. I'm jealous." "Well, now I need a nickname for you. Gotta make it equal." "Go for it." "Hm…Mister Sleepy." "Oh, that's just rude." "Eepy boy." Marc pokes him in the ribs. "Master of the naps." Nath lays down on the wooden platform, stretching. "Y'know, it's actually quite comfy right here. I could take a quick fifteen." "It's not that comfortable." Marc shakes his head. "You're joking." "You underestimate my 'Master of naps' title, then." Nath grins impishly. "I could do it." "With all the noise? And the disco ball?"
"Look." Nath closes his eyes. "I'm sleeping." Marc stifles a snort. "I'm snoring." "Sure." "I need a kiss from a handsome prince to wake me from my slumber." Nath cracks an eye open, biting his lip in an exaggerated smolder. "Is this your way of trying to have our first kiss?" "A big ol smoochy. Sloppy style." "Alright, that's enough, you dork." Marc rolls his eyes. "If you're gonna sleep then I'll just go back to skating." "Haha Marc noo, don't leave me," Nath clings to his arm as he starts to get up. "You're so cute don't leave me here." "Then come with me!" Marc grabs Nath's other hand, digging his brakes into the floor to pull his boyfriend up. Nath resists for just a moment before he lets Marc drag him back into the rink, hands connecting like they've done this forever. Alix skates to their side, grinning. "Told you he'd get the hang of it. He's already doing better than you." "Yeah, yeah." Nath rolls his eyes. "Hey, Marc." "Hm?" "I dare you to skate backwards." "Ha! No way." Marc brushes her off. "I like being not-injured, thanks." Alix sticks out her tongue. "C'mon, it's not as hard as everyone says." She turns on one heel, demonstrating. "You just gotta do this. Go all 'reverse'." "Ooo, she said the buzzword," Nath teases. "Psh, come on," Marc huffs. Then, quieter: "Do you really think I could do it?" "With how you picked up skating? I wouldn't be surprised," Nath says. Alix nods. Their honest faces make Marc go red. It's a little embarrassing that they believe so much more in him than he does in himself. "I don't wanna cause an accident in the rink," he starts. "We'll go off to the side," Alix assures. "Along the wall." "…I'll try."
Marc doesn't let go of Nath's hand as they separate from the central rink. "Now you know how you've been figuring out how to go forwards?" Nath says, moving to stand in front of him. "Yeah?" "You just do that but opposite." "That's not very helpful." "I'm not here to be helpful, I'm here to hold your hand and look cute." "I'm here to be helpful," Alix says, standing behind Marc. "So. Put your feet in a 'V' position, toes together. Nath is gonna hold you so you don't have to worry about slipping." "Really?" "I promised you I wouldn't let go, didn't I?" Nath says, smiling. His face feels warm all the way to the tips of his ears. "Yeah. You did." "Push out to gain speed, keeping your toes pointed in," Alix continues. "Make sure to check over your shoulder so you don't run into anything, but never lean back. That's the number one way to fall on your ass. You ready?" Marc hesitates. "…No?" Alix gives him a hearty clap on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out. I'll stand over there so you can't roll over me. Just scream if you need help." "Can I start screaming now?" "Nah. You'll be fine." Alix is already skating away. Nath squeezes his hands. "What is it?" "My brain is already guessing hospital bill numbers." "I know you're capable. Just be confident in yourself." "I am incredibly confident that I'm about to injure myself." Nath shakes his head, smiling. "I'll keep you steady. And if we both somehow screw up and you do get injured, I promise I'll kiss it better, okay?" Marc gives a little huff and looks away so Nath can't see the red flush in his cheeks. "How do you keep doing that?" "Hm?" "Being all…I don't know, sweet and stuff." Nath chuckles at that. "I've got someone that I like being sweet to." "You're doing it again." "You can't stop me." Nath sticks out his tongue. "You signed the boyfriend contract."
Marc would bury his face in his hands if Nath wasn't holding them so tightly. "Guess so." "Ok, like Alix said." Nath starts to slowly push forward, letting Marc roll backwards. Carefully, Marc pushes out with his heel, shifting his weight to his other foot. Then the other. His foot lands wrong and he stumbles, but Nath is quick to dig in his brakes and pull them to a stop. "That was good," Nath says. "Try again." "I think I get it now," Marc says, pushing off. "You were right, it kind of is like skating forward but…opposite." "Right?" Nath laughs. "I never could get the hang of it. Honestly, I'm impressed that you're picking it up so quickly. Oh, the wall's coming up, we gotta slow." Marc gives a soft grunt as his back hits the wall. His boyfriend gently bumps into him. Marc is all too aware of Nath's chest pressed against his, faces so close that their noses would knock together if either of them were to turn. He thought he'd felt hot all over before. Now is an entirely different matter. "Should we go again?" Nath asks, eyes glittering. "Yeah," Marc responds, breathless. He's not sure when the breath left his lungs. Nath circles them around so Marc's facing backwards again. "You push," he says. "I'll hold on to you." Marc pushes, feeling the momentum pulling him backwards. He's starting to get a feel for the rhythm now, enough that his feet move more instinctively, letting his attention focus more on Nath in front of him, staring into each other's eyes, like they're floating in a dream. Nath glances over his shoulder and his smile drops. "OH SHIT! THE KID!" Marc looks back. The five-year old! The kid looks up at him and easily swerves away. "Thank goodness," Marc starts. Until he realizes he's leaning backwards. Falling. Shit. "Don't lean bACK!" Nath shrieks as his skate collides with Marc's leg. Marc feels his feet leave the ground. He clings to Nath, the two of them falling, their terrified eyes meeting, closerMarc barely registers hitting the floor before Nath's face collides with his. Hard. "Agh!" Marc's head slams against the wood, white pain flashing in his vision. "Shit!" Nath scrambles off him, one hand over his mouth. "Marc?"
Alix is by their sides in an instant. "Are you okay? Is anything broken?" "Augh, god." Marc cracks one eye open. "I taste blood. In my mouth." "Me too." Nath winces, pulling his hand away to look at it. His bottom lip looks split. "We should…we should get off the rink." "Yeah. I need to sit down," Marc says. The inside of his cheek stings where he bit down by accident, the taste of copper painful on his tongue. "Okay. Okay, I'm gonna get ice for you two." Alix guides them back to the tables, thrusting a few napkins into their hands before zooming away. "Stay there!" Marc lets his head drop on Nath's shoulder, pressing the napkin to his mouth to soak up the blood. "That was fun for…a bit. Until we fell." "I should have been paying more attention." "It's okay." Marc rubs his scraped elbow. "Looks like it was just some minor scrapes, so that's good." "Yeah." Nath pauses. "Sorry for crashing into your face with…my face." Marc chuckles at that. "I think my teeth got your lip." "Mhm." Nath wraps an arm around Marc's shoulders. "Come to think of it…did we kiss?" Marc blinks. "Huh?" "Our lips met when we fell. Does that count?" Marc can't help it. He starts laughing. "Marc?" "If that counts," Marc shakes his head, giggling through his mouthful of blood and napkin. "That's a really shitty first kiss." Nath gives a little snort. "That's fair." "It's okay." Marc snuggles closer to his boyfriend. "You can make it up to me later." "Huh?" "You said if I got injured, you'd kiss it better, right?" Marc points to his mouth. "I am very injured." "You got injured in a few places," Nath notes, lifting Marc's arm. "Guess I'd better get started right away." He kisses the scrape on Marc's elbow. "Where else?" Oh. He's really doing this. Marc's heart skips a beat. "The…the back of my head." Nath leans behind him, burying his nose in Marc's curls. "Here?" He murmurs against the skin. Marc's face feels like it's burning. "Yeah."
Nath pulls back. "Any other places?" Marc shakes his head, pulling the napkin away from his mouth. "Just one." Nath leans forward gently. Softly. Marc follows his lead. He can feel Nath's hot breath against his face. He lets himself fall against Nath's lips, the taste of sweat and blood shared between them. He tastes like reality. He feels like a dream. Marc can't imagine waking up. When he slowly pulls away, Nath smiles. "Does it feel better now?" Marc can only feel the buzz in his stomach and the flush in his face. "Yeah." Guess this was a pretty good date after all.
Simple Comforts By Jade_Pearl on AO3 "You know, watching them doesn't make them bake any faster." Nathaniel startled at the sudden voice over his shoulder. He skidded to the side with a hand clutching his chest and turned to face the perpetrator. Alix in turn ignored his glare with a smirk, before she turned and apparently finally realised just how full his counters were. Her gaze was incredulous as she took it all in. “Do you even have enough space for more food?” She zoned in on the pot of egg drop soup on the edge of the island. He could admit that it was a little precariously placed and maybe a bit oversized, but it didn’t deserve her scathing glance. With a huff he planted himself in front of the innocent pot. “Are you here just to judge by storage abilities?” He magnanimously ignored her murmured, "What storage abilities?” and waited for her to explain herself. With a roll of her eyes, Alix leaned in and punched him in his arm. Hard. Before grabbing an apron from the hook beside him and tying it on. “Why would I skate all the way down here to tell you something I can over the phone?” she teased as she grabbed the bowl of dulce de leche filling.