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takeyourdailydoseofcyanide · 2 months ago

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Oscillation, Teeteration; Running From Subjugation!

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Franken Stein, Marie Mjolnir

Word Count: 1 651

Tags: hotels, (more accurately motels), fluff and hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, madness, age regression/de-aging, (eventual agere), another little idea I had, meisters (soul eater), weapons (soul eater), during canon, canon related

Summary: -Manga Spoilers-

Stein and Marie are staying at a motel whilst out of town and on the hunt for the real perpetrator of Joe’s homicide. Though, there happens to be a little bump in the road, and that would be Stein’s madness. Marie is awoken to a struggling Stein.

Notes: per the usual not quite sure how much I like this as of right now but here goes

they’ve been dashing around me and such the entire time I wrote this and after it’s so fitting

“What? …Shh!”

A disoriented grimace plastered itself onto Marie’s visage, having been thrusted out of her rather deep slumber by the intermingling sounds of soft creaking and shaky whispering.

“Stein?” She rolled over onto her back, pawing the sleep out of her dry eyes. Kicking away the motel’s cheap, thin comforter in which she was entangled, she crawled over to the very edge of the bed, squinting her eyes on all fours at the source of all the noise, vision bleary.

Stein was frantically rocking himself, his face, save for his batting eyes, wholly covered by his hands. He repeatedly whipped his head around, from side to side, up and down, and behind himself. He was still murmuring something under his breath, something that sounded more melodic than the former, though she couldn’t make out more than the occasional whimper.

“Stein? What’s wrong?”

She looked over at the alarm clock sitting at a slant on the nightstand, the red string of numbers possessing a luminosity which stretched outward, albeit in a blurry manner. The clock read ‘02:56 AM.’

“Stein!” And finally, he peeked out from behind his twitching fingers, sneaking a glance at her, though not without jumping; startled theatrics.

“Ma-Marie? I-It’s you and you’re awake, y-yes?”

Her gaze softened upon hearing the rattled stuttering in his speech, as she shifted to cross her legs. “Yes, it’s me and I’m awake, Stein. What’s wrong? It’s three in the morning, did you have a nightmare again?”

“Never fell asleep, unless this is one? They.. uhm.. uh…… crawling and they stare. The i-i-a.. shit. No. The i-i-i-individual, Marie, t-they likely are aware of our arrival, yes? They know of our search. And they wo-won’t go away.. on the walls and on the floor and on the skin and in the corners. All over- everywhere!” He rubbed his hands up into his hair, tugging for a moment before caressing his own cheekbones.

“How about-“

He, then, leapt abruptly off of the bed, fidgeting in excess. He continuously flapped his hands, yanked on his pants, and smoothed his fingers over his collarbones, swaying on his feet like the basic motor function of balance went unlearned for him, as he began pacing circles around the room, every once in awhile jerking away from what she’d perceived to be absolutely nothing. There was a thick layer of glossy tears painted over his eyes, two swirling vortexes unable to plummet and relieve themselves in gradual dissipation.

The only word that came to mind, the only word that seemed befitting whilst she patiently sat and observed him was ‘erratic.’

“The eyes and awareness - they know something I don’t, Marie,” he continued his rambling. “I don-don’t like the walls here, they’ve an air about them.. an air, an air, an air, indeed. Do you feel it, too? I don’t know what to do, feel that it is all off course. What am I even doing here- oh, yes. Yes. Yes. I remember now. I remember nothing. Why want- why them- why do they want me? In a past life, given karmatic formalities, something I’ve did within- I- did I done- did I do something wrong? What I’ve done, what am I being punished for? Nothing. I did nothing, I don’t believe in it. …What knocking clock-of-lone quoth of the rising tension, you know… Bottomless red oceans of madness, is it, yes? Give me something to dissect, please, therapeutic value. I don’t need therapy- not from them, but rather from organic volumes of.. I…”

Mjolnir stood, quietly approaching the male once he’d stilled. Before he’d encased his face in his hands anew, his countenance oscillated rapidly between various expressions - he himself was alternating between various expressions, emotions. It was evident he was a dead horse beaten tirelessly with confusion, the threading of the patchwork splitting and fraying, being torn apart. Despite the tears spilling and rolling over his bitten knuckles, bursts of giggles would barrel out of him at random. He was stuck between bolting violently away and leaning into the sensation of a tender hand in his hair; a brutalizing agitation and a furious, aching desire for comfort were being pitted against one another in an all out war.

Marie found herself glad she wasn’t a meister, for to be able to witness well the teetering of his soul and horrified jumping of his wavelength would only make her feel all the worse for him.

She placed her hand carefully on his back, testing the waters. “How about we go sit down, hm? Try to relax a little?”

“Restless, Marie.. in the limbs, it…”

“I know, I know,” she shushed, leading him back to his bed. Despite his latter comment, he silently obeyed, a little overstimulated. He’d wave her off and mumble “don’t touch me,” only to latch onto her wrist and plead with what was his version of puppy dog eyes for just a little more affection, even just a scrap.

She positioned him back down onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. He bounced his leg underneath the covers, biting sores into his cheek and finding solace in the metallic taste of blood he’d garnered. “Where you going?” The questioning words left his mouth in an undeniably childish manner, the anxious grip he had on her sleeve not helping.

“I just figured I’d get you a glass of water,” flashing him a reassuring smile, she ceased any and all movement momentarily.

Stein threw the blanket off of himself, inching closer to her on his knees. “Don’t leave. No-Not while they’re here, please. Leave after? Don’ put nothing in the water, please.”

He folded his aforementioned knees as to cram his face into the warm space between her clavicle and neck, holding onto fistfuls of her t-shirt.

“Are you maybe feeling just a tad bit small now, Franken?” She rested her cheek against the top of his head, hand patting delicately against the small of his back.

It appeared his need for comfort was winning, even if only for a second.

“I can’t tell.. how I feel. Don’t know.”

“I think you might be regressing, honey.” Given how he was swiftly becoming simple putty in her hands over a sappy title, he likely was. “…Do you know how long everything’s been all really.. static-y for?”

“Hours.”

‘Then he definitely is.’

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His lips ever so slightly pursed, he fussed, “No more questions.”

“All right, all right,” she placated. “…………I haven’t seen you drink anything in a while, Franken,” drawling, Marie gently nudged him from out of his hiding spot, to which he whined a petulant “no”, more than a little unhappy with having to come face-to-face with his weapon.

“The sink’s right over there, see? I’ll be right back. And then I’m making sure you actually sleep this time.”

“…Fine. But, uh.. les’ they… uhm.. su’ceed, it’ll be your fault.”

She couldn’t stifle the chuckle that escaped her. “They won’t, I promise.”

Stein had his gaze utterly transfixed on her for the entire time she was but a yard or two away, suckling and gnawing on his already tattered bottom lip.

…Perhaps he was regressing.

He felt something within him perk up at the sound of the pouring water ebbing into mere drops, and the shrieking of the faucet’s handle turning. “W-warm o’ co’d?” He stared at the sloshing liquid presented before him with a suspicion-filled curiosity.

“On the warmer side. It’s already pretty cold in here, so I figured you’d appreciate it.”

He reached up towards the cup with grabby hands, muttering, “Thank you.”

“Woah, woah, woah there,” she seized the glass quickly away from him. “I don’t trust those shaky hands of yours to hold this right now. We don’t want to break this, do we?”

Apathetically, he shrugged. “‘Kay.”

She slotted the glass in between his lips, pausing before situating her hand on the back of his head to clarify, “You’re still okay with me touching you?”

Stein hummed in agreement. “Tryna be.”

He leaned back into the soft texture of her palm, attempting to focus his scribble-teeming mind on the balmy sparks of electricity shooting and pulsating from her flesh.

“All right, then.” Marie tilted the cup, buttom up, and listened for the sound of her meister swallowing. She proudly beamed at the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a stream of encouraging coos and sickeningly sweet sentences billowing from her mouth and hanging in the air - or, at the very least, in the scientist’s fuzzily swelling chest.

“Good… There you go, sweetie. I only want you to finish this cup, okay? Then you can try and sleep. I know you must be really tired, huh? But I can’t let you dehydrate on me.”

“‘M not sweet,” he playfully argued upon taking his final sip, the weapon clanking the glass down carefully onto the bedside table.

“Ohhh.. I see what you’re doing,” she shuffled into bed next to him with a smirk on her countenance and a nodding head. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

“No. Jus’ sayin’ the truth,” the corners of his mouth twitched repetitiously from their usual state into a mischievous grin, back and forth and back and forth, as he huffed out a single awkward giggle.

“Well, maybe you’re not all that sweet technically, but you’re still pretty sweet to me. …Now lay down, sweetheart, it’s bed time.”

Stein complied, scanning the room again before fully enfolding himself in the mound. “Was bed time long time ago.”

She embraced him, wrapping her arms around his torso and administering a touchy-feely kiss to his temple. He responded with a confused expression, his brows pinching in pensivity. She could see the cogs physically turning within his skull as he tried desperately to wrap his brain around the gesture.

She giggled, touching the tip of her finger to the tip of his nose. “Smartass. …You’re lucky you’re cute.”

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