summary: marc and steven never let jake grow out his facial hair. you find a compromise.
word count: 1,143
warnings?: fluff, pet name (mi vida/baby), not proofread
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The tell-tale sign that Jake Lockley has fronted recently was not the bruises on his knuckles, the scabs on his hand, the slight wheeze when he breathed because he had become accustomed to being hit so hard the wind was knocked out of him. It was not the white button down with rolled up sleeves, the vest, the tight trousers, or even the flat cap he so adored. No. No, it would have to be the scruffy facial hair that he always grew. He didn't front often, so it didn't usually grow beyond a five o'clock shadow. Sometimes, though, he would front for longer, growing out the most wonderful mustache you'd ever seen. Marc and Steven hated it. Marc had an almost military-like routine when it came to his appearance—hair kept neat, and a clean-shaven face. Steven just hated the feeling—felt it was too scratchy, made him too aware that he had a face on which facial hair could grow. But Jake loved the look and, truthfully, you did, too.
There was just something about the "porn 'stache" as you had so eloquently named (much to Jake's chagrin—"no, no, mi vida, it's a dad 'stache!" he'd insist. you'd reply: "be glad that i don't call it the clit tickler, my love.") that made you even crazier for him. And every time you watched Marc or Steven go to the bathroom, pull out the razor, and start taking it away, all you wanted to do was cry.
"Can't you leave it for once?" you asked, watching Marc shave after fronting for the first time in several days. "You know how much he loves it. How much I love it."
He glanced at you, smiling softly. "Majority rules, baby," he said.
"Unless you count me, and then it's an even tie," you'd counter.
Marc only laughed, shaking his head, his soft curls bouncing. You'd lost that battle long ago—the one where you tried to convince him to not use so much product in his hair, telling him that you liked it when his curls were free and bouncy and framed his face so beautifully. But hair that bouncy was not very conducive to being a mercenary. It would get in his way, block his vision. Even with the healing powers that came with adorning the Moon Knight suit, he didn't like to take chances. At least Steven doesn't use as much product, he'd offer as way of softening the blow. But that doesn't change the fact that you do, you'd say, and that also means I can't play with your hair like I do with Steven. And he'd only laugh again, saying, As if that ever stopped you before.
"Jake can have the 'stache when he fronts," Marc said. "And Steven and I will go without."
"What about a full beard? That way Jake and I kinda get to keep the 'stache, and—"
"—and Steven and I still be left with unwanted facial hair?" Marc set the razor down. He turned on the tap, splashing water on his face before drying off with the towel you handed him. Then he started to grab his moisturizer, but you got it first, shaking your head at him. He turned more towards you, letting you apply the cream, relaxing into your touch. "Steven's all pouty because he thinks you don't think he looks as good without facial hair."
"That's not true! I think he—and you—could be models!" You put the lid back on the moisturizer, setting it on the sink. You wrung your hands together, moisturizing your own hands with the leftover cream on your fingers. Looking away, you mumbled, "Jake just doesn't front very often. And, you know, he doesn't have much. The 'stache is one of the few things I can look at and remember him, you know?"
Marc sighed, stepping closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I understand, baby. But the 'stache doesn't get to stay."
You pouted. "Fine. I guess I can't make you keep it."
But, you couldn't get it out of your mind. Surely there had to be some sort of compromise to this. There had to be a way that you could have the best of both worlds. And you'd be damned if you couldn't find it.
It seemed, though, that luck came to be on your side a few days after your conversation with Marc. The boys' birthday was coming up soon, so while you were grocery shopping, you decided to look at the party aisle to see if there were any decorations or candles or anything like that that you could pick up. And, oh, you found something so perfect. Didn't even think about whether you should get it, just immediately tossed the item into the buggy. It could've been $500 and you'd still buy it (though, thankfully, it was only a mere $1). And you couldn't wait to see the look on Jake's face when you brought it home.
Jake knew something was up when he saw the big grin on your face as you brought in the grocery bags. He raised a brow at you, leaning against the counter as you set the bags down. "What did you do?"
"Me? Oh nothing," you denied, rifling through the bags, trying to find your treasure.
"Yeah? That why you got a shit-eating grin?"
"What? I do not! I—OH! I found it!" you shouted, pulling the small package from the bag.
Jake looked at what you had in your hands, and he immediately barked out a laugh. "Are you serious, mi vida? Did you actually buy that?"
"It's a compromise!" you said. "That way, you and I get to keep the 'stache, but we don't annoy Marc and Steven in the process! C'mon, lemme just put one on you!"
He rolled his eyes, but relented. "Fine," he said. "If it'll keep that pretty smile on your face."
You squealed, ripping open the packaging and examining its contents with great care. Finally, you decided on the perfect one—the one that looked most like the 'stache he grew. You removed the paper backing from the fake mustache, walking over to Jake. He leaned over, putting his face close to you. You centered the fake 'stache on his face, smoothing it over, before taking a step back and admiring your masterpiece.
"How do I look?" he asked. "As handsome as ever?"
"Hmm, perhaps even handsomer," you said. You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. "How're the boys feeling about this?"
"Steven can't stop laughing, and Marc said something about you being relentless," he said. "I think everyone's on board with this compromise."
"Perfect," you said, pressing your lips to his. "Because I bought, like, twenty of these."
