Crazy? [MOONKNIGHTXREADER]

Chapter 3

"I have to go." You heard Layla say. "Okay, I'll see you later." Marc replied. You heard the sound of a cheek being kissed. "Love you too, Marc." Layla laughed. "Make sure they get home safe. I'm counting on you." She joked, as you heard the sound of boots thumping away, leaving the apartment, a door closing. After a moment, you heard a sigh. You sat up, opening your eyes.

"What the hell was that?" You croaked, staring straight at Marc. He flinched, not expecting you to be awake, before giving you an odd look and frowning as though he was offended. "What? What's so strange? I'm just telling my wife goodbye. What's weird about that?" Your eyes widened, immediately waking up as you leaned forward, jabbing a finger at him. "She's- you're married?!" He nodded, but a part of you was still in disbelief. "To each other. You two are- "

"Yes! Why are you freaking out over it?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. Just- how does that work with Steven? She said the relationship was complicated but- hoo boy, no kidding. "Complicated" might be an understatement." Marc rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed by the whole interaction. "Is this how you say good morning to people?" You shuffled to the edge of the couch, stretching as you stood. "Would you rather I say I think it's weird cuz you look a lot older than her?" He glared at you. "How old do you think I am?" You considered it for a moment. "Well, I think Layla's a bit younger than me."

"That doesn't-"

"37, take it or leave it." You grinned, adding a few extra years just to poke fun at him for. He whirled around to face you fully. "Do you want me to kick you out?" You held up your hands in defense. "Well? How old are you?" He grumbled. "34." You let out a hum. "What?" He snapped. "I don't know. Just- let me do some quick math here. I'm gonna guess Layla is around- I don't know- 27 or 28, I think. You're 34. That means you guys are about..." You counted it out on your fingers. "Seven years apart."

Marc frowned, crossing his arms at you. "And?"

"That means you were seventeen when she was ten."

Marc recoiled in disgust, face contorted in revulsion. "Oh- god, why'd you have to put it like that-?" He gagged, and you couldn't help but snicker. "They are right though, Marc. That is a little odd. You guys got married a little bit back too, didn't you?" You laughed harder when you heard Steven agreeing with you. He sounded somewhat unnerved by the facts you had revealed. "Alright! That's it- you're going home. Come on!" You cackled like a mischievous child as you picked up your bag, jogging towards him. "What about breakfast?" You asked as he opened the door.

"You had breakfast last night." He replied, letting you out and closing the door behind the two of you, locking it. You arched a brow. "Really?" He didn't even give you a glance, turning towards the hall and heading for the elevator. "Come on- you wanna go home or not?" You hummed. "Actually, I think we should have breakfast. I'll pay. You know, to make up for all the shit you guys had to put up with last night. And this morning, I suppose." You laughed apologetically. Marc frowned down at you, his eyes finally meeting yours, if only for a moment. "You don't need to pay us back because we saved you. It was the right thing to do, so we helped." You shrugged into a nod, muttering, "true," all the while still feeling a bit odd about what had happened last night.

If you were honest, you wanted to forget it had ever happened. So you were making dumb jokes to cope with it, and hopefully push it out of your head. And maybe even his. Not the most healthy response, but if it worked, it worked.

"And if you're going to be paying us back for anything," Marc continued, knocking you from your thoughts, "it's gonna be making me think about the age gap in my marriage."

You shrank in mock guilt as Marc pressed the button for the floor, the elevator doors closing as he did so. "Sorry." You chuckled. "But facts are facts. And you, my friend, like 'em young. While she likes them worn."