nextgenerationmarvel | A Day In The Life of Stephanie (Marcelo)

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A Day In The Life of Stephanie (Marcelo)

Stephanie hadn't slept the last night, having spent the whole night finishing up both her papers for school and a policy draft for Shaw Industries, both of which had to be finished and sent off to the appropriate recipients by 8:30 am that morning. Stifling a yawn (it'd been three solid days without sleep and she was starting to feel tired), Stephanie went off to classes, picking up some fast food for breakfast along the way. Classes ran from 9:30 am to 4:30 pm, including one of the many surprise tests that she was fond of giving. The one half-hour stretch she had consisted of delicately balancing shoving the nearest food at hand into her face and engaging in a frantic phone call with Shaw Industries personnel about yet another crisis.

She was also very nearly caught texting in class. But intead of sexting her boyfriend like half of the other students, she was arranging for food deliveries to the shelter.

Immediately after class was finished, she had to rush over to Bistro Provencal to run a job interview for a sous chef there and shortly thereafter, to La Navarra to have a dinner meeting with city officials regarding her plans for expanding the facilities of the 8th street shelter. Soon after that, she was at Shaw Industries, filing paperwork and making sure that nothing else hideously corrupt or evil had in fact transpired that day. Tuesdays and Thursdays were better days for the Shaw Industries work- she only had morning classes on those days and could put more effort into her primary business holdings.

Shaw Industries work more or less done by 3 am, at which time she finally got home, having to find the list of 24-hour food delivery places because she was desperately underfed. By the time she'd eaten, she realized that she had to be up and about for another day in only four more hours and that there'd be no immediate respite until the next weekend.

Marcelo wasn't home- probably on patrol. And Sancho for his part seemed almost hesitant to come near her, as if frightened she was simply going to disappear again.

There was a desperately sad little meow from her furry baby.

That was when Stephanie broke and began sobbing into the substandard Thai food she'd ordered.

I can't do this anymore. I can't. I don't know how I'm going to do this.

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Marcelo pulled away slightly. Only far enough so he could wipe away her tears.

"What's left of yours or one of the five flavors I bought earlier this week?" He placed a kiss on her forehead and finally pulled away to get a couple of spoons and at least one carton of whichever flavor she felt like.

"The cinnamon caramel of mine and the peanut butter fudge." Yes, she was going to eat a full carton and a half and nobody could stop her. She'd basically hit rock bottom. If she wasn't going to bed, she'd probably be inclined to get hideously drunk as well.

Sancho finally seemed to get the nerve to hop up on the table and nuzzle his face into hers. She gratefully picked up the cat and hugged him.

"I'm sorry, baby. I know I haven't been home very much."

Marcelo grabbed three cartons from the freezer and brought them over. Holding the frozen food against his bruises felt wonderful. He was tempted to go sleep in the freezer.

Instead, he set the cinnamon caramel and peanut butter fudge in front of Stephanie and placed a spoon between them. He settled into another chair and with the remaining carton of cherry almond for him.

"I'll order more from our favorite ice cream shop tomorrow." He wasn't going to deny her as much ice cream as she needed.

Morose and exhausted as Stephanie was, it would not stop her from eating. It was a strangely rhythmic activity for her, the spoon dipping down into the ice cream, being raised up to her mouth, briefly savored before swallowing and having the spoon go back to the ice cream. That she was plainly hungry was obvious by how she devoured the approximately half carton of the cinnamon caramel ice cream.

She opened up the carton of the peanut butter fudge.

"The day after tomorrow, I'm going to have to start thinking about delegating." Stephanie didn't say it outright, but that was a desperate admission for her. After what happened with Crane, she tended not to trust major domos. And she was plainly worried about what some of the "King's Men" at Shaw Industries might do if she wasn't there to enforce her will.

But nonetheless, it was crushing her and slowly poisoning her marriage. She'd have to find a way to make it work.

Marcelo ate his ice cream at a much slower pace. He quietly watched his wife as he ate. Just having her in the room made him relax more.

"No thinking about it, Stephanie. You're going to look into it. You can't keep this up. I can have Sage look into possible headhunting candidates for you, if you want. For the company and the shelter." There was a slight smile on his lips. The irony of him telling someone to stop doing so much wasn't lost on him.

Nor was it lost on her.

"Says the man who dresses up at night after running a multibillion dollar company and beats up criminals with his fist."

It actually elicited a faint smile from her. But the reality of the situation was that she was trying to do far more than he was, with less help.

"I have one of my own, you know." It was one of the stranger details of their lives. The fact was that Stephanie hadn't quite fully trusted Tessa (who seemed to prefer that name) with all the details of her business. She might have to do that.

"The restaurants can basically run themselves." It was true- the people there could handle affairs themselves. She could probably rely a little more on Tessa and find some people to assist her with Shaw Industries- the shelter would be the hardest part.

He shrugged. "You're the brains of this outfit, I'm the pretty."

He ate another spoonful. It kept him from saying anything more foolish. Stephanie had done enough damage to herself.

"Then maybe you should use the assets you have instead of trying to carry the world on your back. You don't have to give up everything, but sharing the load will help. You and the people you give responsibilities to. Maybe reach out to your old school for help with the shelter?" The only one he was certain she had to carry herself was the college work. Everything else, she could use help.

Stephanie stared sulkily at her carton of ice cream for a moment. She could do a good enough job of lacerating herself without extra assistance. She continued eating though, forcing herself to remember that he was probably angry as well as concerned, and furthermore, that he was right.

She flirted with saying something acidic, but bit her tongue. She took another bite of the ice cream.

Sancho melodramatically flopped on his back and looked up at her, as if daring her to continue sulking. He opened his mouth and meowed loudly, splaying over a huge portion of the table.

He ate another spoonful. It kept him from sighing at her. He was supposed to be the quiet one of the two of them. Except when he made her angry. The way she was eating her ice cream made him think he hit a sore spot.

There was never an easy way out of anything anymore.

He closed up his carton. His voice stayed calm and level despite the swirl of emotions inside him. "Finish up eating, take the cat, and go to bed."

Marcelo had some cleaning to do. There was still bad Thai food on the wall. He also had to go hide Stephanie's cell phone, computer, and what not. None of it was what he expected to do at 4 in the morning, but it was, at the very least, a change from how things had been for months.

Stephanie got up and started picking up pieces of plate and bits of bad Thai food off the table and the floor around her- if she wasn't in love with having her faults pointed out to her, she truly hated being ordered around. But she was too tired to be able to do anything with any real dexterity.

It was a weird fact of her powers that a sharp bit of plate was less likely to cut her if it was blasted at her at high speeds than if she was simply brushing against it. It took all of ten seconds of trying to gather up plate fragments for her to cut herself.

She whispered a curse under her breath and then just stared at it for a moment.

I can't even clean up a simple mess. What the fuck am I trying to save the world for?

"..." She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. There was abject humiliation written on her face.

A whisper was never really hidden from Marcelo. He heard it and glanced over. He pressed lips together and shook his head. An easy guess what had happened.

He grabbed the waste bin and brought it over. He set it gently down.

He put a hand under her hurt one. "Come on. We'll get that washed, treated, and bandaged."

All without him in a nurse's uniform. Mostly because hers wouldn't fit his body.

Stephanie just let herself be led over to get it washed and bandaged, so shellshocked by exhaustion and humiliation that she couldn't protest even if she wanted to. It likely would have been a jarring thing for Marcelo to see his supremely ambitious, driven and energetic wife in such a miserably low state.

When she finally spoke, it was in a broken near-whisper.

"I just wanted to help clean up."

Then she looked away, her cheeks reddening a little bit. It was a little more complicated than that and she knew it. And so did he.

He kept glancing out of the corner of his eye as he took care of her cut. He expected her to do... something. Maybe shove him away?

"I know, querida. It's okay." He tried gathering her in his arms again. Maybe holding her close would help her. Or maybe just help him.

It was too much of an odd hour of the night for him to even try to figure out if he was just adding a burden to her life. Or her mood was affecting him. "I still love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Stephanie curled up in his arms, desperate for a warmth that she didn't feel like she deserved, but craving it nonetheless, like a drowning man for a lifeline.

"I need to go to bed." She finally managed to half-whisper. "Don't leave me. Please."

He was glad she was curled in so tight. She missed him wincing as she pressed against one of his sore spots.

"Stephanie Isabella Shaw Da Silva, I will never leave you. Ever. I told you that was one of the pitfalls about marrying me. I cling like glue." He wasn't going to trust her to walk all the way across the penthouse to get to bed. She would either stubborn at him or collapse on the way.

So, he scooped her up and carried her.

It was a testament to how exhausted she was, physically, mentally and emotionally that she simply let herself be carried.

"I love you." She managed to murmur, already half-asleep by the time they reached their bedroom. "You're the best part of my life."

That she didn't even remotely put a protest up at being carried worried him a little. Though it made him more resolute to get her tucked into bed and sleeping.

"And I'll still be here in the morning. Lucky you," he teased very gently. He went to her side of the bed and set her down. "Let me help you get more comfortable?"

Though he was eventually going to let a pinch-hitter in to snuggle with her while he cleaned up the mess. Sancho was following in their wake.

Stephanie didn't even bother trying to get out of her clothes, but almost immediately put the covers over herself. She murmured something else almost inaudible before almost immediately falling fast asleep.

Sancho for his part immediately burrowed right into the blanket and started softly purring, ready to snuggle and relax and sleep himself.

Marcelo did manage to get her shoes off at least. He wouldn't want to get kicked in the shins by those when he finally crawled back into their bed. The rest, he let be.

He kissed her forehead before going back out into the penthouse to clean up. Sancho was there to protect her. She wouldn't be able to go anywhere with that big cat there.

When he had cleaned up the wall-splatter, picked up the broken pieces of glass and plate, left a note for the maid about re-cleaning the wall, sending a message to their personal chef about making Stephanie's favorites for the next day, and hidden Stephanie's phone, computer, tablets, and other means of communications, it was finally time to crawl into bed. Which he did.

Then he scooted all the way over to Stephanie's side to hold her while she slept. He watched the rise and fall of her rhythmic breathing until he, too, fell asleep.

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A Day In The Life of Stephanie (Marcelo)

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