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Two's Company, Three's A Crowd

Summary:

It's Saturday which means it's the weekend and it's Steven's turn to choose the main activities this week. Will all three manage to come to an agreement? Find out.

It's a cute one shot I promise.

Notes:

Yeah I don't really have any words for this. I just wanted to write Steven being a cute and prissy Brit and a few headcanons of what I think each of our boys likes and dislikes are.
I'm sure there's some mistakes and this isn't meant to be an accurate portrayal of DID relationships so please bare that in mind. This can be read as platonic or ship if you want.

Anyways, enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Marc steps out of the South Kensington underground station and walks towards a square filled with quaint little cafes and restaurants, getting the odd look from passers by whenever it looks like he’s talking to himself (they’re used to it by now so he pays them no mind).

“Remember, it’s my turn to choose the main activities today, yeah?” the keen voice of his British counterpart speaks into his ear.

“Yes, I know Steven. We should eat some food first. Give us energy for the rest of the day. How about Pret a Manger?”

“I want to try somewhere new.”

“I thought you liked Pret? You love their vegetarian wraps.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how many times I can order the same thing, I’m starting to get sick of it.”

“Well okay, where do you want to go?” Marc is patient. He knows Steven’s indecisiveness often leads to them going back and forth for a while until he finally picks a place to eat whilst Marc would happily go anywhere.

“I want to go to a Brazilian Rodízio place,” interrupts the low, gruff Latine accent of their third alter. “The one that does the unlimited meat skewers. You just leave the card down on the table so it shows green and they keep coming back to your table with more meat until you flip it over. Es lo mejor que hay.”

Steven gasps in disgust. “No way! I’m not watching you scarf dead animal carcasses down our throat until we can’t move!”

“Well why do we have to always eat your vegetable crap huh? I’m sick of that too! I don’t care what anyone says, tofu is bland as hell!”

“Guys, stop arguing,” Marc intervenes, trying to be the voice of reason. “Maybe we can find somewhere that caters to all our tastes. That way we can all enjoy something.”

~~~

They end up settling on a little Lebanese restaurant that overlooks the square and take their food to sit outside on one of the tables. Marc props a double sided mirror against a glass of fresh pomegranate juice so they can all switch in and enjoy the meal together.

Steven starts by dipping a piece of arabic flat bread into baba ganoush and shoving it into his mouth, audibly moaning and causing a few other customers to look up. “Oh my days, why the hell haven’t we tried this before?”

Marc watches amusedly from the mirror. “Actually, Layla and I used to eat Lebanese a few times, some of the dishes and desserts are similar to Egyptian.”

“And you forgot to mention this to us until now? We could have been eating this stuff every day, Marc!” Steven says, grabbing one of the tasty balls of falafel and stuffing it in his mouth.

“It’s a fairly popular cuisine in London, Steven. They have a Lebanese style shawarma place on almost every other street now.” The American pauses. “Just wait till you try shisha.”

“You mean that hubbly bubbly stuff? Not a chance mate. Looks a bit dodgy.”

Marc swaps in to take a bite from the hummus and flatbread and then some of the salty and citrusy tabbouleh. “Don't knock it till you try it. They have lots of fruity flavours like apple and mint, watermelon etc. It's actually quite pleasant. Much better than cigarettes.”

Steven mulls it over in the mirror for a while. “Well… maybe one day. But I don't like the idea of putting too many poisons in our body.”

Jake shifts in hard and shoves a massive bite of kofta into his mouth using his hands, the well seasoned lamb tasting deliciously on his tongue. He finishes by licking the meat juices from his fingers. “Less talking, more eating.”

They get a few pieces of baklava to go and decide to add Lebanese to their top three choices of cuisine along with Mexican and Indian.

~~~

As Steven is still deciding on his first activity, Marc takes them for a walk in Hyde park. It seems lots of London’s residents are taking advantage of the nice weather today; some playing with their dogs, other’s feeding the ducks. He sits on a bench under a large silver birch and closes his eyes, listening to the bustling sounds around him.

A Bernese Mountain dog alerts his attention. The large furry creature walks up to him off its leash and makes itself known with a deep bark. Marc smiles. “Hey there buddy, not chasing any of the ducks I hope?” He lets the dog approach and sniff him before giving it a few pets and a good scratch under its muzzle. The dog thanks him by gently licking his hand and then trots off back to its owner. A soft expression adorns Marc’s face as he watches the dog retreat. What a good boy, he thinks.

“Cats are better.”

Marc rolls his eyes. Like fucking clockwork. Not even in his own thoughts is he free from the constant univinted input of one of his alters. He decides to take Jake’s bait, even if it’s just to be spiteful. “Cats kill wildlife and leave their guts and decapitated little bodies on the carpet for you to find in the morning.”

“Yeah? That's why they’re awesome. Cute little bastards with murder mittens. And they purr! Dogs don’t do that.”

“Well, dogs love you unconditionally. Cats don’t even respond when you call them by their names, that's how ungrateful they are.”

“Cats do show love! They just choose when to. I’d rather a cat give me attention when it wants then be bothered 24/7 by a needy dog. Also, dogs chew on everything and slobber all over you. Bruto!”

“Dogs are loyal, that’s why they’re ‘man’s best friend.’ They do jobs cats could never. Have you ever heard of a police cat or a search and rescue cat? No!”

“Cats were worshipped in ancient Egypt. They’re practically like mini versions of gods. There’s even a musical named after them!”

Oh this is rich. “You said you hated that when Steven forced us to sit through the original! You didn’t even let us get through half! Said if you had to listen to one more song you’d take a gun to our head and blow our brains out!” Marc ridicules his alter. “Whatever, tell him Steven, dogs are a hundred times better than cats, right?”

“No way, Stevie! Cats rule, dogs drool, cierto?”

Steven, who's been rather quiet the whole time, looks between them and then averts his eyes down to his feet. “They’re both equally lovely,” he says politely, “but if I’m being honest…I like birds.”

“What!?” the other two say in unison.

Steven fronts and his knee starts jittering up and down as he pulls on his sleeves. “I just– I think they’re neat; they come in so many beautiful colours, the wonderful melodies they sing to you in the morning, amazing critters. Some birds are so clever they can mimic over three hundred human phrases. They’re also modern dinosaurs, you know?” He prepares to spout more random bird facts until Marc stops him.

“What about Khonshu? I thought you hate him? He’s kinda bird-like, although a very creepy looking one.”

Steven scoffs, “Khonshu is a stupid ugly pidgeon and an insult to all of birdkind, their grace, intelligence and beauty.”

This elicits a bark of laughter from Jake. “Oh he won’t like that.”

“Yeah well, it’s true!” Steven gazes out into the distance and spots a flock of beautiful brightly coloured parakeets nesting in the trees. “I always thought about getting a blue and green budgie one day,” he says with a melancholic look on his face. “Then I could whistle to it and teach it the theme tunes of my favourite shows. But I didn't want to get into trouble with the landlady so I settled on a goldfish. Now don't get me wrong, yeah? I loved Gus to pieces, bless his little fishy soul (he makes a quick sign of the cross), it’s just, a little budgie would have been nice company for someone like me.”

Marc looks at Steven with his sad smile from the mirror. He hadn’t known any of this even though Steven was usually very open with them. This must have been something private he’d held onto for a while. “What would you have named it?” he asks softly and with genuine interest.

“…”

“Steven, come on buddy, you can tell us. We won’t judge, will we Jake?”

“Sí, no judgements here, cariño.”

Steven mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“I said, Thoth!”

Marc and Jake sit in stunned silence for a bit, processing this information. “Of course I should have expected that,” Marc says with a deadpan expression.

“Without a shadow of a doubt how did we not guess?” Jake adds.

“Oh shut up! The both of you are such insufferable arses!” Steven berates them but there’s no real anger behind it and he starts to laugh.

They decide to watch the birds a little longer.

~~~

Marc is fronting as they walk past a coffee and cake shop when Steven's voice calls out.

“Marc? I think I want some ice cream.”

“Ice cream makes us fat,” interjects Jake. “And it’s not vegan.”

“They make vegan ones now! It’s the 21st century, we’re civilised!”

Marc sighs. “Steven we only ate like an hour ago, how are you still hungry?”

“Maybe I don’t have the same metabolism as you two!”

“It’s the same body mi hombre! You can’t be serious?” argues Jake.

“Well, tell that to our stomach!”

“Guys!” Marc stops them. “Jake, let Steven get his ice cream or whatever. You or I can do some workout later to burn it off.”

Jake huffs in annoyance. Marc always spoils Steven rotten, letting him have his way. Marc chalked it down to “letting the Wookiee win,” a reference the Latino didn’t understand at first, admitting he’d never bothered with any of the Star Wars films much to the shock of Marc (“it’s only the greatest trilogy of all time! The O.G. ones, although the good looking pilot in the recent trilogy is one of its few saving graces.”) Now he’d seen at least one of them, he could see the comparison; Steven could nag at them until their ears bled so it was often better to give in and let him do what he wants. “Fine, but don’t get any weird flavours or toppings.”

They find a place that sells vegan soft serve gelato. Steven gets a mix of matcha and dark chocolate.

As they eat their dessert, Steven pipes up, “Okay, I think I know what I want to do for my first real activity. I want to see a show in the West End. There’s matinee deals going on all the time and I know a guy at one of the kiosk desks personally so there’s a chance he’ll give us a good discount.”

Jake groans loudly. “I told you I hate musicals! They’re all the same stupid whacky stories with crazy over the top singing.”

“What about Hamilton? I thought you liked that one.”

“No, you and Marc like that one. I only like the one song at the beginning.”

Marc smirks. “Maybe we should force Jake to watch Cats since he loves them so much.”

“Fucking joke about that and I’ll cut our ears off when you sleep, Spector,” the Latino threatens.

“Hold on, gents,” Steven disrupts them, “I think I have the perfect one in mind.”

~~~

Steven manages to get a good discount for Phantom Of The Opera at Her Majesty’s Theatre. He’s already seen it a dozen times but figures Marc and Jake deserve to see one of the classics, after all it’s Webber’s best seller for a reason!

Once the curtains are drawn and the lights turned back on, Steven exits through the well adorned lobby with a program stuffed under his arm.

Marc is the first to give his verdict. “That… actually wasn’t half bad. The set designs in particular were pretty awesome.”

“See? I told you! And the costumes were amazing! So much attention to detail and the singer who played the Phantom this time can really belt it!”

Jake grins. “Heh, I think Stevie was only interested in the singer the way his eyes popped out every time he was on stage.”

Steven blushes. “Well, I can't help it, the actor was objectively fit even with the prosthetics. And anyway, the Phantom is way better than that stiff Raoul.”

“What? No way!” Marc replies. “Raoul isn’t a weird creepy stalker hiding in his makeshift horny dungeon under a theatre with half a face missing.”

Steven rolls his eyes. “Erik has way more charisma and an incredibly tragic past. After years of people viewing him as a monster because of his deformities, his dark romantic feelings turned obsession makes him appear vulnerable and such an interesting character to watch.”

“Now you just sound like you wish you’d been in Christine’s place and the Phantom had whisked you away instead.”

Steven blushes harder. “No, don't be ridiculous! I just said the actor was fit. That’s a perfectly valid observation. I can still like the character and not endorse his actions. Many people enjoy the twisted dark fantasy elements. Anyway, I’ve seen this way more times than you! And I’ve read the book and watched the film although Gerard Butler, handsome bloke as he is, can’t hold a tune to the real thing.”

Marc snorts. “What do you think Jake? Is Steven’s beloved stalker or Raoul better?

“Sorry Marc, I have to go with Steven. The Phantom is way less boring than that wet drip. Although he shouldn’t have let them go in the end. I’d have shot Raoul, taken Christine and then burnt the place to the ground.”

Steven clasps his hands together. “Hey, What about a Shakespeare play at the Globe next time? Watch a piece of real British history? I think they’re playing Hamlet tomorrow.”

Although Marc is usually more than happy to let Steven get what he wants there’s some things he draws a line at. “Don’t push it Steven.”

~~~

Steven begs them to go to the Natural History Museum for his second activity.

Marc holds the bridge of his nose, disgruntled look on his face. “Steven, buddy, you work in a museum. Why the hell would you want to visit one on your day off?!”

“Because it’s different, innit? They have completely different exhibits! Mines all archeology, paintings and man-made sculptures. The Natural History museum holds one of the largest collections of science specimens on earth! It’s full of palaeontology, zoology, I mean, it’s the name Marc!”

Marc is about to object but Steven is already pushing the body past security and through the open doors.

~~~

Jake likes the dinosaurs, the weird taxidermied animals and the pickled specimens of sharks and other cartilaginous vertebrates in jars, finding them morbidly fascinating.

Marc is impressed by the blue whale skeleton.

Steven is impressed with, well, everything. Like a kid in a candy shop, his eyes light up everywhere they go and there’s a permanent grin plastered on his face. He can’t stop himself from spouting random facts every time they go up to any particularly interesting exhibit and Marc compares him to a younger David Attenborough which Steven gladly accepts.

“Isn’t he the old man who makes animal documentaries?”

“No Jake, he doesn’t make them, he narrates them and Sir David is a national treasure and a curator here so I will not stand for any slander!” huffs the Brit.

“Right, right, right. Whatever Stevie.”

~~~

Steven decides he wants to have a look at the gift shop (his excuse is he wants to keep an eye on the competition but Marc knows better) and naturally, he ends up spending way too long talking to one of the employees.

“Wow, your displays look amazing! So much better than the ones we have in the National Gallery. I mean, I know I’m the only who technically does them but I have to do it to the way my stupid boss wants. If I could just have a little more creative freedom… I’d have the place looking as incredible as you lot! I’m Steven with a ‘v’ by the way,” he holds out his hand which the other gift shoppist accepts. Marc knows Steven is in his element right now as he’s oozing confidence. Normally, the mild mannered man couldn’t hold a conversation with someone new without stumbling, fidgeting or looking around awkwardly. So this is a real first. Must be a museum thing.

Steven and the employee continue to swap anecdotes about their jobs for a while longer, “…and then my boss Donna only thought that there were seven gods in the Ennead instead of nine! Can you believe it? All of our posters had the wrong info and they still wanted us to sell them! That’s like this place trying to sell a poster replacing the dinosaurs from the Jurassic with the Cretaceous! Bloody embarrassing!”

“Marc, I'm going to go insane!” Jake hisses in the back of their mind. “Make him stop!”

Marc knows how easy it is for their British alter to get carried away rambling whenever it’s a topic he’s interested in. It would be fine if it was just them or Layla but the employee probably has other duties and visitors to attend to. “Alright Steven, I think that’s enough gossipping with your friend about museum gift shops for one day, we need to go,” Marc intervenes, reining him in. He takes control of their legs and begins to drag their body away.

“Come by the National Gallery anytime mate, I'd be happy to give you a tour!” Steven continues, still talking to the other man as his body walks in the other direction, like he’s being pulled away by some invisible force. “Maybe you could give some pointers to my boss on how to properly display our stock, yeah? Lators!”

The gift shop employee waves goodbye to him. What an adorable eccentric fellow Steven with a ‘v’ is, he thinks.

~~~

“Alright, enough museums and musicals. It’s my turn to pick something,” Jake says, taking the lead.

He goes into the nearest tube station and after travelling with the busy crowds of Saturday night London, he gets off at Piccadilly Circus and makes the short walk to Soho.

It’s already pretty crowded and noisy with people milling about, drinking and smoking outside the bars and clubs. They pass a few flashing erotic neon signs and Jake walks up to what looks like the particularly dingy looking entrance of a bar with a poster hanging on the door advertising tonight’s strip show. Loud thumping music vibrates from within the walls.

“We’re not going in there,” Steven bemoans, tugging from within their shared headspace.

Jake holds his ground. “What? You some kind of prude?”

The Brit huffs indignantly. “No! And Sorry if I don’t want to see women objectifying themselves in front of horny old men looking to drown their sorrows with cigarettes and cheap booze.”

Jake growls. “Fine! We can go to a gay club if you prefer and watch the men, maybe one will offer to suck us off just to shut you up! Maybe then you’ll stop being such a wuss.”

“Shut up!” yells Marc. He firmly pushes Jake aside and takes control. “We’re going to a normal bar and that’s that! I’m getting a whiskey.”

~~~

So they end up going to a noisy little bar on the corner of a street. It just so happens to be karaoke night.

After half an hour of rowdy crowds, bad singing and loud music, Steven grows tired from the noise and retreats far into their mind space for some peace and quiet, not before warning his alters to not get drunk.

Marc and Jake do drink whether it’s beer, whiskey or shots as they end up chatting with several other groups there for the night. At some point (and after one too many), they end up getting on stage, singing with a group of drunken men from Putney as well as dancing with a group of older women on a hen-do. Some of the women and men end up being a little too handsy but Marc and/or Jake (neither knows who’s in control as they keep switching) are far too inebriated to care. In all the chaos, they manage to make as many people confused as possible.

“Oh you’re such a scream Jake!”

“¡Gracias amigo!”

“Where’d you learn to sing with a set of pipes like that, Jake?”

“It’s Marc.”

The other man is so intoxicated, he accepts the change of name without question and even apologises.

“Sorry, my bad, Marc then.”

“Guess it’s just natural talent.”

“Marc, love!” one of the girls from the other group shouts at them, “you should come dance with us!”

“Es Jake, chicas.”

“Right, sorry, Jake come dance with us!”

Jake even ends up on one of the tables to dance, swaying his hips wildly to the loud beat. The music keeps playing and the drinks keep coming; their money for the night slowly dwindling down.

~~~

It’s Steven who wakes up hours later in the men’s toilets, immediately overwhelmed with the need to vomit (which he does).

“Uuuugh, what the bloody hell happened? Where am I? We? Guys? Guys!? Marc? Jake?” Bollocks. He flushes the contents in the loo and shakily stands up feeling like every muscle in his body is on fire. Fuck. “I told you both not to go on a bender! Now we have to waste part of tomorrow sobering up!”

Steven opens the bathroom stall and staggers towards the row of sinks. He takes a look in the dirty mirror whilst trying to keep himself steady. The only reflection that stares back is his own and he looks rough. His hair is completely dishevelled, there’s some weird stains on his shirt he’s not sure what of and he reeks of alcohol and cigarettes.

Christ. Just how much did you two make us drink?” his voice comes out raspy and hoarse.

He’s met with silence.

Steven Looks inside their wallet and thankfully there’s one twenty pound note left which should just be enough to get them home.

~~~

Somehow, he miraculously drags them to a taxi stand and into one of London’s iconic black taxis.

“Listen son, you better not throw up in my car or you’re out, got it?” the gruff voice of the cab driver instructs.

Steven can feel the toxins and ice cream wanting to push their way back up to the surface but swallows it down and shakes his head. “No it’s all good mate. I’m–I’m fine really.” He gives the cabbie a quick thumbs up and the address. For the next fifteen minutes, he tries hard not to puke all over the cab’s floor as it swerves around the narrow streets of London, back to their flat.

~~~

As soon as Steven gets home he slips off his shoes and socks, dashes into the bathroom, and vomits again. Cursing the other two who are no doubtedly black out drunk somewhere in their mindspace, he swallows two Panadol to nurse his growing headache and chugs a large glass of water. Then he takes a quick piss, splashes some cold water on his face and brushes his teeth as best he can. He takes off his shirt and trousers because they smell foul and although he really wants to shower he doesn’t have the energy and his headache won’t let him. Finally he crawls into bed, groaning.

Tomorrow he’s dragging them to see Shakespeare and Marc and Jake can deal with their hangover.

Notes:

This was just a massive excuse to write as much banter between the three of them as possible tbh

Honestly, I don't know where steven works, if it’s the british museum or the national gallery (seems like an intended hybrid)

Also Phantom rules, I've seen it five times :P. And so does Lebanese food

(Kofta: skewer of ground lamb or sometimes lamb/beef mixture with herbs and spices.
Baba Ganoush: aubergine dip mixed with tahini, olive oil, lemon juice and seasonings.
Tabbouleh: salad made from lots of chopped fresh parsley, mint, tomatoes, onions, bulgar wheat, seasoned with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper.)