"You get into the worst situations when I'm gone!"

Layla swatted his chest and Marc shot her a mock hurt look.

"Ouch."

She scowled. Marc licked chocolate ice cream off his spoon, grinning at her.

"The worst," Layla grumbled and emptied her vanilla-caramel mix.

It was date night. Actually, Date Night, capital D and N, as Steven had told Marc. Dress nicely, take her out to dinner, maybe a movie, or just a walk in the park.

Marc had rolled his eyes at the suggestions. He had thrown on a rather new black t-shirt and a jacket, but when Layla had walked in with take-out boxes and two dessert-sized tubs of her favorite ice cream, he knew this was going to be the at-home kinda date.

Which he liked. A lot.

They were sitting in that cozy little space underneath one of the roof windows, their backs to the wall, the sky a dusky gray-blue as night fell. There were pillows, blankets, the old rug, and books stacked to function as small tables.

"One week, Spector!" she reminded him yet again. "One measly week and you can't stay out of trouble!"

"I was summoned," he repeated what he had said before. "I could hardly say no. Not polite."

"Since when are you all manners?"

He elbowed her gently, playfully. "I can be a gentleman."

"Bring the evidence," Layla huffed and scraped the last bit of caramel syrup out of the tub.

There were a few sprinkles clinging to the spoon. She had poured a generous helping of the colorful sugar treats onto her ice cream that had Marc grimace. Layla had told him about her dig site, her black market visits, finding a few pieces she had reacquired, and to anyone else it would have sounded like talking about her latest vacation, just without the million and one snapshots. Marc knew his wife lived a dangerous life and he would have preferred to come along, but she had clearly told him not to hover, mother-hen or shadow her.

Marc had brought her up to speed on recent events throughout their dessert and Layla's first words had been 'You could have opened with that!'.

Yes, well, his bad.

She had been as shocked, surprised and disgusted at the summoning as he had suspected she would be.

"Is this some kind of deity witch-hunt?" she asked sourly.

He chuckled. "Kinda sounds like it, doesn't it? Might also be Khonshu's non-existent political skills. He is more of a battering ram."

Layla smiled briefly. "You all are really okay?" she asked as she leaned against him. "All? Even the possessive asshole of a god you are bonded to?"

He laughed and curled an arm around his wife. "Yes. Steven, me, Khonshu… all of us. We didn't make any more friends, but we made a statement. Khonshu did."

"Doesn't endear him to the rest, but he was never one to thrive on a big social circle," she remarked.

Marc chuckled.

Steven had given them privacy after happily greeting Layla, telling her she looked as lovely and amazing as always. Khonshu was… wherever. Marc could sense him close by, but he wasn't visible, and he wasn't reacting to them talking about him. He was actually remarkably not-there whenever Date Night happened.

Marc refused to call it consideration.

"It's crazy to think that Osiris of all people… gods… deities… created something like that," she mused. "To destroy an avatar bond… it's so much worse than any other punishment I could think of."

"Apparently it was done because of Seth."

Layla dropped her head against his shoulder. "Seth's not the nicest of Egyptian gods, sure. He's called the god of the desert, storms, violence and disorder, so that's a first clue. I'm sure myth is founded in facts somewhere and he probably wasn't the friendly neighborhood deity."

Marc chuckled. "Probably."

Steven had been talking his ear off about that particular deity and Marc knew more than he had ever wanted to know, but it had been very interesting. Khonshu had pointed out where myth and reality differed, but he had been very patient and tolerant with Steven turning into the Encyclopedia of Egyptian Deities.

"Khonshu never mentioned why they went to such extremes?"

"No. It seems to be a sore point for all of them."

There was a sliver of unease and something else trickling through him. Marc didn't even flinch anymore. He had grown very much accustomed to sensing the moon god's stronger reactions and sometimes he thought Khonshu wasn't even trying to shield him from it. It had been a very fast learning process.

"At least the dagger's gone now," she said.

"Hm."

"And you know that the guy loves you."

Marc looked down at the wild curls. Layla turned her head enough that he could see her teasing smile.

"Khonshu. I'm not sure other immortal entities would have gone to such extremes, both physically and emotionally, to keep you as his avatar. He risked the bond to two souls, which gives him an unrivalled advantage. Could have backfired."

But it hadn't.

"Just like you won't let him go either, love."

"No," Marc answered quietly. Not for anything. Like he wouldn't let go of Steven. Or Layla.

He was in a very weird relationship that wasn't defined by any human norms with his wife, his alter and the god whose soul-bound he and Steven were. He shared Layla's theory that no other deity would have done what Khonshu did, would be as invested in one single avatar, and surely wouldn't have gotten themselves trapped in stone to help the avatar.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You're married to all of that," he teased.

She hugged him close, laughing. "I am."

"Crazy lady."

"Menace," she purred.


It was Steven who woke up to Layla next to him and he nearly fell off the bed in a panic.

Because he was mostly naked.

And she was mostly naked.

He frantically slipped out of bed and grabbed the nearest sweatpants, pulling them on. Breath coming in quick gasps, Steven backed away from the bed and fled to the bathroom.

He stared into the mirror. "Marc!" he hissed.

No answer.

"Damnit, Marc! That's not…"

He stopped. It hadn't been their deal. Then again, there had never been words lost about their individual relationships with Layla.

But Marc wasn't around. Bastard.

Steven quickly splashed water into his face, shaved haphazardly, and pulled an older Henley out of the pile of already washed but not yet folded clothes. Marc was a slob in that regard, he thought darkly.

When he peered outside, Layla was very much awake and in the kitchen. So much for hoping to sneak out. She was wearing an, albeit short, nightshirt, thankfully.

"Good morning." He gave her a shy little wave.

It was met by a warm, loving smile. "Good morning, Steven. Coffee?"

He wasn't surprised that she knew it was him and not Marc. She was really good at that.

"Uhm, yes, sure. I can nip over to the bakery, get croissants or such…"

Layla poured him a coffee, put the right amount of milk and sugar in it, and held the mug out to him. Steven gave her another smile as he took it.

"Sorry about… this…" He gestured at himself. "Not sure what happened. Kinda slipped up there."

"Marc just needed the sleep."

"Oh. I… Sure…" He flushed.

Layla grinned from behind her own mug, a teasing light dancing in her eyes. "You had quite an interesting encounter, I heard. Family call from the Ennead?"

Steven slid into one of the chairs, glad for the change of topic. He was too flustered to think if a good way to extricate himself from this clearly domestic and husband-wife situation. It really had never happened before. He loved Layla, he really did, and he would never do something like this; wake up with her when it was her night with her husband.

He pushed those musings aside. Layla didn't look angry, offended or grossed out. Actually, she treated it like an everyday occurrence.

"We… had. Not sure I'd call them family, though some are bratty. Marc told you everything?"

She nodded.

"It was… not ideal. The way the Ennead requested us to explain our actions… I mean… and Khonshu was Khonshu, which didn't help."

She chuckled humorlessly. "I bet. He's a cranky old bird when it comes to the Ennead."

"Oh, very. And it's a little past cranky on a good day. I have to say he was more civil than I had previously seen him, but there is no love lost there."

"Marc also told me about the possibility that there are more cursed items."

Steven nodded. "I've been thinking about that, too. It's difficult to find something about Egyptian curses and dark magic, though. You get the usual stuff on the pharaoh's curse and mummies and stuff. King Tut's curse is right at the top of every article I could find, like the fan favorite it is."

"I might have a way to find information that isn't in the text books."

Steven perked up. "Where?"

Layla grinned. "Just like there are places to look for, buy or sell illegal items, there are places for the more… dark stuff."

He stared at her, wheels turning. "Dark… magic stuff?"

"For example."

"And you… you know someone?"

"Oh, I know a lot of people," she answered vaguely. "But you don't talk to those people in person."

"I won't?"

Layla shook her head with a fine smile. "I won't, Steven. You're not going anywhere near them. It's an online access to a site that contains some highly illegal stuff, from artifacts to drugs to weapons."

Steven grimaced, feeling a shiver of unease. "Sounds dangerous."

"No more than what you two do."

"Marc is the one who gets shot at, stabbed, strangled or worse. The worst I get is a paper cut," he argued.

Her expression was so loving and amused, Steven felt himself melt a little more in her presence. No matter how long they had known each other by now, how often they had interacted, he couldn't get used to anyone, let alone a woman, treat him the way Layla did. Well, anyone but Marc, who was closer to him than anyone could possibly be, and by extent, yes, Khonshu.

"You're also not an avatar," Steven ploughed on. "Marc and I have Khonshu. You don't."

"I can take care of myself, especially in an online setting. The whole access is encrypted nine ways to Sunday and back. I found my best recoveries there." Layla drank her coffee, looking absolutely at ease.

"I know you can. You're absolutely bad-ass amazing, Layla. I've seen you fight and you're strong and independent…" He flushed a little. "I just worry."

She reached over and gently took his hand, interlacing their fingers. Her smile was warm, affectionate, loving, and Steven almost melted at that.

"Thank you. Thank you for worrying. I know you do; I know you would do everything to protect this. Just like I know Marc does in his own way. I feel the same when he goes out in that suit, even though I know Khonshu is one hellishly protective mother-hen and the armor will heal him from just about anything. It's human nature. It's also love. Your love. His love. My love." She winked. "Khonshu's."

He gave her a wide-eyed look. Layla just met that gaze, holding it with an unwavering expression of conviction and love, and Steven felt himself smile tentatively. Something warm curled through him and he couldn't say whether it was just him, just Marc, or both of them. Probably both.

"This is complicated," he said softly.

She nodded, face reflecting her emotions clearly.

"And this morning…" He ducked his head a little. "Really complicated."

"You are not an intrusion, Steven. Or a stranger. You know that." She squeezed his hand again. "Now, I'll take a quick shower," she said with a little smile. "Then I want a big breakfast in that hideously unhealthy restaurant Marc loves so much. I know it's not vegan…"

"That's fine!" Steven blurted. "There's always an option on the menu."

She got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Give me fifteen minutes."

He would give her all the time in the world.