Coming Out of My Cage | Eagle | PG-13
Title: Coming Out of My Cage
Series: The Eagle AU
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: PG-13
Length: 7,773
Warnings: Raging teenage emotions, very strong language... this is high school fluff featuring hormones, people.
Summary: It started out with a kissing booth kiss - how did it end up like this?
A/N: A freakishly long sequel to Worth More Than a Dollar. I genuinely haven’t a clue how this got away from me, but it did. Let’s just say Esca was being difficult. Enjoy!
The harsh light of morning assaulted Esca’s eyes as he slunk from his front door, called out by the shrill honking of Marina Aquila’s battered, beige station wagon. By the look on her face through the windscreen, she had enjoyed her weekend at the school faire. At least someone had.
“Well,” Marina said, before Esca had even fully buckled his seatbelt, “Don’t you look like a bucket full of sunshine.”
“Fuck you very much,” Esca said without malice, refusing to acknowledge the hulking figure slouched in the backseat of the car. As a rule, he and Marcus did not particularly exchange greetings.
Marina laughed and glanced over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway, her thick, dark ponytail swishing with each movement. “How was the rest of your weekend?”
Esca did not flash back to Saturday - to the way he’d so boldly leaned into the window of Marcus’ kissing booth and basically asked for a snog. Esca also did not think of the sexually-frustrating Sunday that followed. Fuck’s sake.
“Boring. You raise enough money for your bits of material that vaguely amount to skirts?”
“And then some.” Marina whizzed past a stop sign with barely a pause, eliciting a hiss from Marcus. “Anyway,” Marina said, as if she weren’t putting their lives at risk with every turn, “Even if you don’t appreciate it, the football team does. Isn’t that right, Marcus?”
“What - I don’t know,” Marcus said with a hoarse, sleepy mumble.
“Don’t play coy,” Marina said with a wide, stunning smile that Esca knew Marcus also had, although he never chose to flash it. “As I happen to know that one of my squad asked you out at the faire on Saturday. Obviously you do take the skirts into consideration.”
Esca felt his face flame up and quickly shifted so Marina wouldn’t catch the reaction. He manually unrolled the piece of crap window and slumped down in his seat, letting the cool morning air whip across his face. Saturday? The same day they had -
“Well, I wasn’t going to say no.”
“Obviously,” Marina said. “No one says no to Blythe Daily.”
“Blythe?” Esca said, before he could muffle his own reaction. He barked a sharp laugh. “What kind of name is Blythe? Is she a lost member of the Babysitter’s Club?”
Marina flicked an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she screeched to a sharp halt, just inches from the bumper of the truck before them.
“And who was the last person you went on a date with?” Marcus said casually. Too casually to have cared about the kiss in the way that Esca had.
Esca picked at the threads of a growing rip in his jeans. He hadn’t particularly dated anyone at all, and Marcus well knew that. Esca and Marina practically lived in each other’s pockets, and Marcus was inevitably around for much of it.
“Esca’s been on plenty of dates, doofus,” Marina said with the ease of a natural-born liar. Esca could’ve kissed her right then and there. “He’s just too classy to out all the hot gay men who want to tap that. I, on the other hand, haven’t a speck of class, so I’m allowed to brag for him.”
Marcus was silent. Esca took the moment to dare a look in the rear-view mirror - and found amber-green eyes locked on his for a brief spark of time. Esca’s heart took a running jump against his ribs, a loud, painful thump sounding in his burning ears as he glanced away.
Esca swallowed tightly and struggled for normalcy. Right about now, normalcy would be brilliant. “It’s alright, Rena. Let him have his moment in the spotlight. He’s snogged half the school now - probability allows that at least one of the horde will be desperate enough to give another go.”
Marcus didn’t defend himself, while Marina gave a delighted giggle. “Esca, rude. Rude and accurate.”
Esca smirked to himself and flicked on the radio. He spent the next few minutes to school fiddling with the channels, unhappy with all of them. His feet tapped to no tune, excess energy like a humming second skin.
Blythe-fucking-Daily. Who the fuck was that? Figured Marcus would go for boring. A footballer dating a cheerleader. What a match.
And to think Esca had thought more of Marcus. Had found him vastly more fascinating than any knuckleheaded jock that strutted through the halls, like they had bollocks too big for their bodies. Well, that was just one more reason Esca needed to get over this - this disturbing attraction, which had lasted far too long.
“Marcus,” Marina said, her voice bright and undoubtedly laced with mischief. “Hey, Marcus.”
“What,” Marcus said gruffly. Definitely his sulking voice. Esca remembered it from their early years, when Marina would always get her way and end up putting on a Disney film, while Marcus wanted to play Nintendo.
“Whatcha gonna do on your da-aate?” She sing-songed the final word, definitely teasing. Definitely going to rub it in and ask inappropriate questions later. That was just Marina.
Silence, then, “We’re going to see the new scary movie that’s coming out on Friday.”
“Oh,” Marina said, clearly delighted as she pulled into the school car park. “Good choice. She can cuddle into your big strong arms at the scary parts, and you can pretend that you’re not shitting yourself at both the movie and foreign female contact.”
Esca snorted a laugh. If only Marcus were so averse to girls. At least, then - then what? Then, nothing. Even if that were the case, Esca couldn’t - wouldn’t - pursue something like...
Hot bubbles of frustration - of anger - began to roil and boil in Esca’s belly. Pressing his lips together hard, Esca recalled a night just a year ago.
Halloween, and he and Marina had stumbled in from a party; tripped over each other as they’d fallen into the living room where Marcus was curled on the couch. Marina had dropped onto a plump recliner and promptly passed out, while Esca had flung himself onto the couch beside Marcus.
Even drunk, Esca could remember that Marcus’ hair had been long and spiked, then - not shaved down, like now. He’d been knackered and doe-eyed when Esca and Marina had come in; had looked up at them with lazy blinks as he remained huddled in pyjama bottoms, a ratty Gap hoodie, and a patchwork quilt.
“You’re so fucking boring,” Esca said with a slight slur as he wheedled his way beneath the same blanket.
“I prefer it over being a wreck,” Marcus said placidly, scooting over to make room for Esca’s flailing limbs.
Esca had just grinned. “What’s on?”
“Halloween, original.”
“Oooh.” Esca settled beside Marcus, already beginning to lean into his space, curl against that big, warm body. “Love the classics.”
“Same,” Marcus said, a slight smile pulling at his lips.
And for that night, there had been a truce on whatever it was that had them constantly polarising. They’d grown excited over the scary parts, laughed at the dated bits, and had given twin, jaw-cracking yawns by the end.
Esca couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but he did remember waking up in the middle of the night with his cheek smushed against the crook of Marcus’ neck. The span of Marcus’ long, lightly muscled torso had been carved just for Esca’s form to fit against. He’d smelled like buttered popcorn and Irish Spring soap. That moment had been - it had been stupidly fucking perfect.
Before Marina had even shifted gears into park, Esca was saying his goodbyes to her and shooting from the car. He needed to breathe. He needed to centre himself. He needed to remind himself that Marcus Aquila was off limits - and even if he wasn’t, Marcus didn’t want Esca, anyway.
***
Esca groaned and rolled over on Marina’s bed, burying his face in a pillow that smelled of peach and mint. “There is only so much America’s Next Top Model I can watch.”
“Blasphemy. What kind of queer are you?”
“One with taste,” Esca said, his voice muffled and tired.
“Well, what do you want to do?” The mattress lurched as Marina sat up and switched off the television.
“Dunno.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Esca,” Marina said with exasperation. She shoved Esca’s side, hard - which was, for the record, quite hard, as the girl was nearing six feet tall and held cheerleaders on her shoulders for fun. “What the fuck is your problem this week?”
Esca looked up from the pillow he was clutching and gave Marina the stink-eye. “Nothing -why?”
Marina flicked an eyebrow. “ Cramps? Do you need some Midol - chocolate? Because aside from that, I seriously can’t figure out what’s had you in such a mood.”
"I guess I've just been feeling restless. Out of sorts or something."
"Or something," Marina said with her eyebrows raised.
Esca stared back coolly, unwilling to be the one to disengage and give the game away. "Wanna go to the cinema?"
Marina laughed. "The cinema? How long have you been living here, now? It's the movies, darling."
Esca gave her a bland stare. "Well, golly gee, I am so darn sorry. Ya'll wanna go to the movies with me?"
"Okay, that's just frightening. Let's never do it again." Marina pursed her lips. "Isn't Marcus' movie date tonight?"
Esca feigned mild interest as he picked at a hangnail. "Is it?"
Marina got that glint in her eye. The same one she got when she was fifteen and growing tits and decided she'd lift her shirt to Liathan Prince to find out what reaction she'd get. The same look as when she'd planned a house party while her parents were away and ended up filling the hot tub with bubble bath - and promptly blamed it on Marcus, who was the only one found in the house the next morning, when their parents showed up.
"You know it is. Hey," she said with a grin, "why don't we do some recon work tonight?"
Esca didn't even pretend not to know what she was talking about. While his ears heated and his heart thundered, he allowed a smirk. "If that's how you want to spend your Friday night, love."
Marina thwacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Fuck off, I know you're as curious as I am."
"Why would I be curious?" Esca said, making a show of rubbing his arm.
Marina gave him a pointed look. "Because."
Esca rolled his eyes, but the nonchalance went as deep as his buzzing skin. "Well, I wanted to see that one film anyway."
Marina hooted with enthusiasm. "That's the spirit!"
***
Esca didn't know why he had to torture himself like this. Why, for the past years he'd watched Marcus grow up from afar, when he could’ve just jumped in and befriended him. Fuck knows Marcus had given him enough opportunities.
But every time it had just felt wrong. First it had been because Esca had been terrified of his instant attraction to Marcus. At twelve it hadn't been so nefarious - more like, the minute Esca had seen those long gangly limbs, that warm summer tan, that slow smile - he'd felt like curling up on Marcus' lap and never moving again.
Life had been a bit shite back then. New world, new culture. Esca had been grossly out of his element. Then he’d met Marcus and the sheer unexpected depth of his reaction to Marcus’ initial natural generosity had swept Esca off his feet and dragged him to drowning point. Even at twelve, Esca had known that he was in riding a dangerous wave.
Yet, here he was, taking himself deeper than was really logically safe. And at the moment? Esca didn’t fucking care.
Scratch that. Esca didn’t care until he stood at the serving counter, staring up at the menu board and cursing the inflating price of popcorn.
“Esca?”
For a split second, Esca utterly froze. But he liked to think he was quicker on his feet than the average teenager, and so quickly stole himself and looked over his shoulder with a bored expression. He gave Marcus’ sunny blonde date a dismissive once over and aimed a smirk Marcus’ way.
“Well don’t you two just look adorable together.”
Marcus’ face went ruddy, while Blythe - again, what the fuck name was Blythe - just smiled brightly and gripped Marcus’ arm tighter. “I know, right? I don’t think we’ve really met, though. I’ve seen you with Marina before.”
Esca smiled wanly. “We’re practically attached at the hip.”
“Oh my gawd, your accent is seriously fab,” Blythe said at a stunningly high pitch.
“Are you on a -” Marcus said, stopping himself abruptly. He wouldn’t meet Esca’s searching gaze. “I mean, who’d you come with?”
“The more superior of the Aquila siblings,” Esca said, swallowing tightly and forcing himself not to obviously linger on the long, bronze line of Marcus’ throat in casual polo top. “She’s - she’s getting good seats. Apparently I’m to pay for the sustenance.”
“So what movie are you seeing?” Blythe said, leaning her head on Marcus’ broad shoulder. Esca wanted to rip out her perfect, perky curls, Mean Girls style.
“Same as you, actually,” Esca said, his attention still fixed on Marcus. He looked to be growing redder by the second. Esca couldn’t figure why Marcus was embarrassed, but at least it outwardly gave Esca the upper-hand. No one else had to know that his knees were shaking. “Don’t worry,” Esca said with a sharp grin. “We won’t sit too close. Wouldn’t want to ruin any moments.”
While Blythe giggled wildly and Marcus looked like he was about to go into anaphylactic shock, Esca gave a mock-cheerful wave and turned on his heel to make his order. To engage in further conversation with those two would have been more than even he could take. So when Marcus and Blythe went to a different register to order and talked softly to each other, Esca was relieved.
Wait, no. He was still choking on an encompassing shade of green.
***
“Long line?” Marina said as Esca flopped onto the seat beside her. She’d hoarded the furthest back seat, directly in the centre of the row - the best spot for fucking about, honestly.
“Not really. I ran into the lovebirds,” Esca said, and handed over a massive soda and a box of Junior Mints. He set his own drink aside and began a poor, bag-crackling attempt to open his sour gummy worms.
Marina snorted and slouched down, sandwiching her knees up against the seat before her. “Who are you, Dezi Arnez? Nobody says lovebirds. Gross.”
“Gross? How old are you?”
“Old enough to be creeped out by the idea of my little brother dating anybody.”
“You didn’t seem creeped out when you practically held me at gunpoint to get me to kiss your little brother.”
The fact that Marina didn’t reply was more unsettling than it was a win. Esca shifted uncomfortably and bit down on any searching questions that might spit their way out. Instead, he ripped open the package of his gummies - and, consequently, sent worms flying through the air like sugary confetti.
Marina’s squeal of laughter was immediate and Esca’s unmanly giggles tumbled quickly after. Esca was gasping, his shoulders shaking with unbidden mirth as he ran his hands through his hair and sent sour sugar spraying everywhere. When he looked up to grin wildly at Marina, Esca instead found himself looking past her and meeting Marcus’ shadowed gaze in the dimly lit theatre.
Esca refused to allow himself to blush. Instead he cocked his head at the couple and raised an eyebrow, his mouth still pulling in a grin. “Minor calamity. Carry on - nothing to see here.”
Marcus’ look was indistinguishable as he turned without a word and continued to walk down the aisle with his date.
“Way to say ‘hi’ to your sister, by the way!” Marina said at her non-indoor voice. No one particularly seemed the care - the film hadn’t begun, anyway.
“Hi, by the way,” Marcus said back with ease.
“He’s such a dick,” Marina said without heat as she dusted sugar off of her jeans.
“You’re both dicks.”
“If we’re dicks, you’re a bitch.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Now who can’t seem to remember their age?” Marina slid an amused glance Esca’s way.
Esca smiled easily, but he couldn’t seem to help himself from flicking his attention towards the middle centre, where Marcus and Blythe took their seats. When Marcus said something in Blythe’s ear and she tittered, Esca felt his stomach drop and his throat constrict. Fuck. He really was a martyr.
Thankfully, the lights dimmed and the couple became nothing but a silhouette against the screen. Esca released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and crammed several gummy worms into his mouth.
“So,” Marina said at a whisper, leaning in while the previews rolled, “You never did tell me about that kiss.”
To Esca’s credit, he did not choke. Instead, he aimed a droll look her way - which was likely rather uninspiring, as he had chipmunk cheeks filled with sweets. “What. It wasn’t anything. It was vanilla, just like your brother.”
“Really? Because you haven’t said a word about it since it happened. I had money on you coming back to rage at me about the injustice of high school and the hierarchy of cheerleaders, and how they manipulate lesser beings to do their bidding.”
Esca swallowed and looked to the flashing film screen. With his words precise and even, he said, “Yes. All of that.”
“Uh huh,” Marina said in a curious tone, leaning back in her seat with a sigh.
Esca was certainly not going to inquire.
“What does ‘uh huh’ mean?” Esca said, wondering if it was physically possible to strangle himself with his own hands.
Marina barely glanced his way and kept her voice low. “What do you mean what does it mean? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, it obviously implies something if you’ve taken the time to say it.”
Marina stared at Esca with an arched eyebrow. “Don’t worry so much, Esca. It’s not obvious to anyone but me.”
Esca balked and felt his ears set on fire. “Wh- how? How?”
Marina shrugged and turned back to the screen, sipped from her straw. Then, “You make it so abundantly clear that you don’t care for him that it gets kind of, well, clear that it’s the very opposite.”
“I hate you.”
“Watch the fucking movie, Esca.”
***
Esca did not watch the fucking film.
Not what stupid Marcus and stupid Blythe were in front of him. Esca was busy drilling holes into the back of their heads while their silhouettes did disgusting things like lean on each other. And Blythe did not need to whisper that near to Marcus’ hear. He wasn’t bloody deaf.
When Esca heard Blythe’s faint giggle and watched her attempt to feed Marcus some popcorn, Esca knew he was going to be sick. He didn’t excuse himself as he clumsily jumped from his chair and escaped the theatre.
Without anywhere else to go, he made a beeline for the toilets. He would hide in there until he didn’t feel like ripping Marcus’ hair out or possibly punching himself in the face.
Splashing his cheeks with water, Esca leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why had one silly fucking snog turned him into this? Pathetic.
“Oh,” said a familiar voice that rolled through Esca’s frame.
Esca stiffened and opened his eyes to stare at the reflection beside his. “Hi,” he said, short and clipped.
Marcus’ forehead was creased as he rubbed the back of his neck and inspected Esca with those stupid doe eyes of his. “What’s your problem?”
Catching a flash of his own haughty expression as he turned from the mirror, Esca shifted and hefted himself onto the slightly damp countertop to properly cripple Marcus with a single look. Unfortunately, if there was one thing both of the Aquila siblings possessed, it was an apparent immunity to Esca’s sass. So when Aquila merely stared back with his head cocked and his eyes steady, Esca heaved a sigh.
“What? Nothing. It simply a bit greeby to watch your mountainous shadow get it’s awkward on with a poor wee cheerleader.”
“What the crap is ‘greeby’?” Marcus said as he moved to the urinals.
Esca rolled his eyes and looked away, folding his arms across his chest. “Gross and creepy. The epitome of every hot-blooded, American, high-school male.”
“So, you too?”
“Hence, my specification of American.”
“Well, my family is Italian.”
Esca’s could feel his face reddening. “You know what I mean.”
“I never know what you mean, Esca. Ever.”
Esca whirled to stare hard at Marcus, as he zipped up and ambled to the sink beside where Esca sat. Marcus’ hip brushed Esca’s knee, Marcus’ bowed head aligned with Esca’s profile. Betraying himself on a level that was truly sad, Esca inhaled a discreet breath and caught the familiar forested musk of Marcus’ skin. No cologne, not even for a date. Simple, genuine - Marcus.
Esca bit back a groan and canted his chin toward Marcus, resolutely ignoring the sheer length of those thick eyelashes. Instead, he looked to Marcus’ hands as he washed them. Large, brown hands; calloused fingers and blunt nails. Perfect, wide palms for possessing, encompassing Esca’s hips and bruising his wrists.
“Seriously, though,” Marcus said as he wiped his dripping hands on his jeans. “You’ve been exceptionally bitchy with me for the past week, and I’m kinda sick of it.” Marcus’ gaze was steady as he rested one hand on the counter, his warm thumb contoured to Esca’s thigh. “I know you don’t like me, Esca - you never have. But I thought we at least got along when we had to.”
Esca felt his cheeks fry, knew his face was turning into a tomato as he went dead still. “Who thought we ever got along?” Esca said, feeling a vile spew of words struggling up his throat. “Who would ever want to get along with you? It would be like befriending a houseplant, but with worse conversational skills.”
Marcus’ jaw worked beneath shaved, olive skin, the sinews of his neck going tight as he leaned in to Esca’s space, loomed in with a heavy air of threat that Esca had never once seen or experienced. Marcus’ voice was dark, a tremor lining his words like distant thunder.
“So what are you doing here, Esca?” Marcus’ gaze flicked down once - maybe to Esca’s mouth, or maybe fantasising about strangling Esca with one hand, Esca didn’t know - and then back to pierce through Esca’s heart, his lungs. “Why are you here when you could’ve walked out the minute I came in?”
Esca sputtered, his breath catching on his tongue. “I -”
“Why do you get a ride to school every morning if you live like two blocks away?”
“Well, I -”
“And why -” Marcus’ eyes scoured over Esca’s face, the colour rising in his own tan cheekbones. “Why is it that every time I think we can be friends, that you’re - you’re great and funny and still a dick but not mean about it - why is that it’s then when you turn around and act like - like -” Marcus gestured widely at Esca, nearly skelping him in the face. “The kind of person I wouldn’t normally go near with a ten foot pole.”
“Well I’m glad we’ve got our places sorted then,” Esca said with a snarl. He pushed off the countertop, his palms already slapping against Marcus’ chest and shoving him away. “You there, me here. Or, better yet, like you said, ten feet awa-”
“You know,” Marcus said from between clenched teeth, “I actually got it into my head that when we’d - uh.” Marcus went very suddenly red, from neck to hairline. Esca’s heart hurtled towards his stomach with sickening force. Marcus glanced away, but continued on with apparent difficulty. “That when we’d kissed -”
“For money. And I was forced to,” Esca said, quick to interject and shocked he could actually speak with the way his face was going numb from horror.
“That you’d finally gotten over yourself.”
Esca’s jaw dropped - for a second, it truly did. “G-gotten over myself? Me? Right. Well -” Esca turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, unable to look Marcus in the eye and hating himself for it. “Well, cheers for helping me finally get over you. Cock!”
With fire snapping at his heels, Esca stormed from the bathroom and blindly made for the direction of the theatre. His bottom lip felt angry-hot and swollen between the thoughtless bite of his teeth, his cheeks burning with - with - UGH.
Esca burst through the first set of double doors, the distant sound of a shriek from behind the next set sounding like fucking music to his ears at this point. He’d really enjoy having a bit of a scream right now.
And he nearly did shout with frustration when strong, cool fingers shackled Esca’s wrist and pulled him back. Esca rounded on Marcus in the dim shadows and yanked his hand away. His shoulder sang with pain when Marcus didn’t budge, didn’t release.
“What?” Esca said with a hiss, forcing himself to lock eyes with Marcus. “What could you -”
“Did you mean that?” Marcus said, his expression and tone unwavering.
“That you’re a cock? Every word.” Esca’s hands were shaking. Shit. He attempted to tear himself away again, only to find himself inexplicably slammed against the wall and glaring up at a Marcus’ frowning mouth and furrowed brow.
“Did you mean it?” Marcus said again, his voice cracking. This time, for the first time, he sounded more breakable than Esca felt.
Esca’s tongue froze, his bones chilling and stilling until he was sure he would simply shatter against the subtle contour of Marcus’ body against his own. Because, when it came down to it, Esca couldn’t find it in him to reply.
What would Marcus do with knowledge like that? Probably not make Esca’s life a living hell or anything - Marcus wasn’t that kind of person.
No, it would be worse. Marcus would pity him. Esca, the poor wee gay guy.
Esca forced a sharp, short laugh and ignored the brief clench of Marcus’ grasp on his wrist. Marcus’ hand dwarfed Esca’s; surprisingly calloused, invigoratingly heavy. “I didn’t.”
Marcus’ breath hitched, released long and slow. “Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t mean it.” Esca’s ribcage felt razor-sharp, with every deafening pulse thudding against his breast slicing at his heart. “Obviously. Can you let me the fuck go now?”
“No.”
Esca’s heated protests were cut off my Marcus’ mouth. With the first faint taste of popcorn-salty lips, Esca’s concerns of fear and pride scattered. He didn’t know which one of them murmured the brief, breathy moan, but Marcus’ body was all hard, heady insistence against Esca’s own, and all Esca could think was that his knees would give out at any moment.
Marcus’ hands were a gentleman’s hands; wide, hot palms encompassing the jut of Esca’s hips. But the long, muscular thigh wedging between Esca’s legs was not, and neither was the slick swipe of Marcus’ tongue along Esca’s sensitive lower lip. Marcus wasn’t asking for permission - he was coaxing it out.
Apparently Marcus didn’t realise that Esca was already there. Had been there since the first kiss - had been there since before it.
But this was still different. Still new, frightening territory. This was no begrudging kissing booth snog. This was Marcus kissing Esca because he wanted to. These were Marcus’ full, distracting lips sliding over Esca’s with pulse-racing purpose, with the intent flick and dip of tongue to capture and taste.
Esca huffed a shaky breath against Marcus’ mouth, slung his arms around the nape of Marcus’ neck and dove in. He felt Marcus still for a moment, as if he didn’t believe Esca would reciprocate so strongly - and then he sighed. Marcus actually sighed for Esca. An electric thrill shivered down Esca’s spine as he thrust his tongue into the wet heat of Marcus’ mouth, savoured the sharp ridge of Marcus’ teeth and utterly forgot to breathe.
A shrill scream sounded from the theatre, followed by the gasps and yelps from the audience - and both Esca’s and Marcus’ eyes shot open.
Esca was the first to untangle himself from Marcus, but found himself still between the wall and Marcus. He crossed his arms over his chest and aimed a narrow look at Marcus, hoping to look vaguely threatening even when he could feel that his cheeks were flushed and his lips left aching.
“Go away, Marcus.”
“You were lying,” Marcus said, the faint tremor in his voice satisfying Esca.
Esca raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You let yourself think that.”
Marcus shoved his hands in his pockets, his posture slightly slouching. His eyes were shadowed, his words a low rumble. “I like you, Esca. Maybe not as long as you’ve liked me -”
“Fuck you.”
“But at least I’m not afraid to admit it.” Marcus shrugged and turned, heading for the theatre. “Don’t be a chicken. It doesn’t suit you.”
The double doors opened, a flood of light and dialogue crashing over Esca as he watched Marcus disappear down the aisle.
Well, shit. He’d just been owned by Marcus Aquila.
***
“So,” Marina said with obvious amusement as they filed out of the theatre, “You and my brother were gone a long time.”
Esca winced. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But -”
“Seriously, Rena.”
Marina pouted as they idly bumped shoulders on their way to the car park. “Okay,” she said simply. “Wanna sleep over, though?”
“Yeah,” Esca said with a heave of breath. “I do.”
***
Around one in the morning, Esca gave up on sleeping and slipped out of Marina’s bedroom. He needed a distraction.
I like you, Esca.
Esca snorted derisively as he padded downstairs. He hadn’t brought overnight clothes, so he was dressed in one of Marina’s old cheerleading camp shirts and a pair of light blue and lavender plaid pyjama pants that fit well at the waist, but were miles too long.
The soft murmur of the television from down the hall had Esca frowning as he crept down to corridor. Apparently someone else couldn’t sleep. Esca guessed Mr. Aquila. He’d served in some military or other - Esca never paid much attention - and didn’t sleep well. Esca had run into Mr. Aquila on many late nights.
Instead, when Esca peeked around the corner and into the living room, he found Marcus’ quiet profile awash in misty blue light. An old rerun of the original Iron Chef was on, the commentator speaking in rapid, animated Japanese.
For some reason, that alone made Esca smile - calmed the tension that had been fisting tight in his stomach. Marcus loved cooking shows. He couldn’t make toast without burning it.
Stepping lightly into the room, Esca approached the back of the sofa. Marcus jumped a bit, somehow noting Esca’s presence, and looked up over his shoulder with half-mast eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He blinked rapidly, his expression clearing and his lips tugging into a soft frown.
“Esca?” He said, his voice gruff with sleep.
“Do you remember,” Esca said, his voice pitched low as lofted over the couch and settled down a safe distance from Marcus afghan-covered body, “in freshman year we had to give a presentation on a country assigned to us?”
Marcus rubbed one of his eyes and stifled a yawn. “Yeah?”
“And you got Greece and wanted to make Baklava for the class.” Esca pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling. “I walked into your kitchen and found you basically covered in honey from fingers to elbows.”
Marcus’ lips twitched as he cocked his head and considered Esca. “There were a lot of pistachios stuck to me.”
Esca huffed a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “The recipe you’d printed out had all these detailed notes scribbled on them, like you thought you were going to invent a new, genius version of Baklava that would get you an A+ for the entire semester.”
“And you stood there and made fun of me for a good ten minutes,” Marcus said, not sounding annoyed in the slightest.
Esca shrugged and looked to the screen, watching someone attempt to make beetroot ice cream. “You were incredibly pathetic.”
“And then you helped me,” Marcus said, so hushed that Esca almost missed it.
“Well.” Esca glanced down and plucked at a frayed string on his pyjamas. “You were incredibly pathetic.”
They fell into a lull for a time, Esca finding solace in sitting side-by-side, watching shitty, late-night television. Esca’s arms felt chilled, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to ruin the fragile comfort.
“Hey, Marcus?”
“Mmm?”
Esca winged a look Marcus’ way and found him slouched to the side, his temple pillowed on the armrest and his eyes closed. The very faint freckles scattered over Marcus’ nose were highlight by the television’s glow, and his long, lush eyelashes casted dramatic shadows across his cheeks.
With his heart thudding in his throat, Esca brought his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Resting his chin on his bony knees, he watched Marcus with a frown.
“I like you, too,” Esca said.
When no reply came for a good minute, Esca released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment that seized his lungs, but at least he’d said it out loud. He wouldn’t be saying it again.
“Come ‘ere,” Marcus said, his voice slurred. He lifted one arm while gripping the edge of the blanket, holding out what appeared to be a welcoming wing for Esca to crawl beneath.
Esca was really fucking glad that Marcus’ eyes were shut, so that he didn’t see the pure horror wash over his face. “Are you having a laugh?”
“Seem like it t’you?”
Esca gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to fucking cuddle with you just because -”
“Chicken.”
Sputtering and speechless, Esca gawked at Marcus. “I’m not scared.”
“So?” Marcus’ arm remained raised.
Esca contorted his face into that of pure pain as he unfolded his limbs and scooted across the couch. Before he could make a show of obliterating his pride and being the little spoon, Marcus swept his arm around Esca and tucked him in. Marcus’s chest was warm against Esca’s back, the distant pulse of Marcus’ heart through their t-shirts like a clock counting down the seconds to the point in which Esca utterly imploded.
“Relax.” Marcus’ voice in all hoarse in Esca’s ear had him twitching.
“Why are you doing this, Marcus?” Esca said tightly. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Rest them on Marcus’? Chop them off?
“I told you. I like you.”
“Ha. Simple as that?”
To Esca’s growing horror, Marcus shifted and placed a kiss on Esca’s ear. Languid warmth flooded through Esca’s limbs, left him breathless and bewildered.
“Yeah,” Marcus said. “Simple as that. ‘Night.”
Esca stared blankly at the television and wondered how Marcus kept on getting in the last word.
***
“I’m gonna go ahead,” Marina said from her spot before the Esca and Marcus tangled up on the couch, “and guess that your date with Blythe didn’t go very well.”
If Esca had to guess, the speed at which Esca and Marcus separated on the couch was almost Olympic. Standing on sleep-wobbly legs, Esca darted looks between the Aquila siblings and considered simply jumping through the window and running down the street.
Marcus was silent, too, as ran his palms over his slumber-flushed face. “Guess so,” he said from behind his hands. Esca couldn’t tell if he was blushing or just tired.
“I’ll just be going,” Esca said, his tone definitely too high-pitched. He didn’t spare Marcus a look as he dashed upstairs to gather his things. His footsteps thundered up the stairs, drowning out whatever conversation Marina seemed to jump right into upon his vacating the room. By the clipped sound of her voice, she didn’t sound too happy, though.
After changing into yesterday’s clothing with shaking hands, Esca found himself sitting on Marina’s bed with his hands folded atop his lap. He stared blandly at her wall of shining trophies and wondering what the hell was going on with his life these past two weeks.
More than that, what the fuck was Marcus doing with him? If it were anyone else but Marcus, Esca would think this was some kind of cruel joke. Since it was Marcus... well, since it was him, Esca didn’t have a clue.
Straight guys didn’t just kiss another guy and become gay. In Esca’s dreams, yes. In reality, no. So what did that make Marcus? Esca didn’t trust this situation for a second.
Taking a deep breath, Esca stood and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to go home. He needed space.
Unfortunately, upon yanking open the door, he found Marcus standing there with one hand raised, as if to knock.
“Uh,” Esca said. Oh good, now he was speaking on Marcus’ level. “I’m going home.” He swept past Marcus.
“Wait.” Marcus reached for Esca’s elbow. “Esca.”
“Oiy.” Esca whirled on Marcus, taking a purposeful pause to lower his voice so that no one might eavesdrop. “I don’t know what’s with you, but quit it, yeah?”
“What’s with me?” Marcus leaned in, his eyes a strong, clear amber. “What’s with you? I can’t - I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all. The minute I think I have a hold on you, I lose it. The minute I think I see you, you’re gone.”
The hope that alighted within Esca’s chest was stamped down by panic. “I don’t like games, Marcus. And I don’t like you.”
Esca ran. He was definitely a chicken.
***
A week passed. A very awkward week.
Esca walked to school because, as Marcus had pointed out, it wasn’t that far. He studied hard because the end of the school year was coming to a close. He researched universities. He considered moving back to the UK.
And he definitely did not think of Marcus, and of how Esca had royally fucked things up.
Esca couldn’t even talk to Marina about this. Bless that bitch, but if she knew all of the details that she was currently needling for, she would definitely run and tell her little brother how head-over-fucking-heels Esca was for Marcus. Marina liked to think she was some sort of master matchmaker. She was actually just damn nosey.
On the following Friday night, it was definitely Marina’s nosiness which Esca blamed for his life’s current debacle. Namely, attending the Friday night football game. She’d begged and bribed him, reminding Esca that this was the final football game of Marina’s high school cheerleading career, and that Esca should be there to witness her glittering awesomeness.
Esca couldn’t really argue with that. Not without feeling like a complete dick.
It also meant watching Marcus race across the field with flexing, muscular thighs and beautifully defined forearms and - ugh. Torture.
By half-time, Esca was a roiling mass of tension and repressed agitation. He watched Marcus pull off his helmet, his cheekbones glistening with sweat beneath the floodlights. His smile was easy, stupidly white as he looked into the cheering crowd and gave an almost shy little wave.
Then he saw Esca in the front row, sitting behind the cheerleaders, and frowned. He paused, shifted towards Esca as if to head over to him. Esca’s chest swelled, his chin raising and lips parting, instinctively preparing to call out.
Marcus turned away.
Esca hoped the bleachers would collapse on top of him.
“Can I be honest with you?” Marina said as she dropped beside Esca and leaned towards his ear. The crowd was bright and crashing around them, so at odds with how fucking alone Esca felt.
Esca glanced Marina’s way and shrugged.
Marina’s lips curved. She cupped her hands around her mouth and brought them to Esca’s ear. “You’re acting like a pussy.”
Esca was fairly sure he’d never done a double-take in his life, until now. “W-wha - I - what?”
“You’re acting like a Blythe, Esca. Like a stupid, weak, lovesick girl without a backbone.” Marina sat back and shrugged at Esca’s open-mouthed gape. “I’m just telling you how it is, darling. Get over it.”
“And do what, exactly?” Esca said, trying not to sound like he was whining.
Marina waved a hand vaguely and smiled at the emptied field. “Oh, I don’t know. Go and get your man?”
“My -” Esca laughed out loud at that. “He’s not my man.”
Marina slid a long glance his way. “And whose fault is that, Esca?”
Some of Marina’s pals began to call at her, so Marina left Esca with a pat on the thigh. Esca blinked up at the blinding floodlights and said, “Well, shit.”
Getting to his feet felt like more of an ordeal that it should have, but Esca got there. Looking around, he shoved his antsy hands in his pockets and made his way to the edge of the bleachers. The team would be back out shortly for the second half. All Esca had to do was wait.
He hated waiting.
For Marcus, Esca would wait.
When he saw the pack of big oafs strutting towards him, all of them laughing and joking with each other as they passed, Esca nearly lost his nerve. That was, until the last person in the line began to brush by. This time it was Esca who grabbed at Marcus’ wrist and pulled him away.
“Wh- Esca?” Marcus didn’t look particularly pleased to see him, but he didn’t jerk from Esca’s hold either. “What do you want?”
Marcus’ pulse was a rapid thrum beneath the pad of Esca’s thumb. A wave of giddiness engulfed Esca.
“I like you, Marcus,” Esca said quickly, sharply. He knew he was frowning, and this wasn’t the most romantic thing ever - but damn, he was trying here.
“Huh?” Marcus pitched his voice above the crowd as he leaned in with his brow furrowed. “I can’t hear you.”
Esca bit back his instinctual snark. With a deep breath, he pulled on Marcus’ wrist hard, nearly bumping their chests together. Esca went to his toes, his mouth whispering across Marcus’ jaw as Esca brought himself to a shout.
“I said I like you, fucking knobhead!”
Marcus jerked back, his palm moving to cover his offended ear. “You didn’t have to yell it!”
“Well, you’re fucking deaf, apparently! And you’re yelling, too.”
Esca felt his face and neck going hot and red with embarrassment - until he realised that Marcus was smiling. Laughing.
Fisting his hands on his hips, Esca glowered at Marcus as he watched him bring his hands to his knees and near keel-over. “Oh, is this funny to you?” Esca said, even as his lips twitched.
“No.” Marcus stood tall once more, his face flushed with amusement, his eyes bright. “Definitely not. There’s nothing at all funny about your screaming a declaration of love into my ear and then calling me a dickhead.”
Esca’s eyes widened. “That was not a declaration of love. Don’t be gross.”
Marcus held up his hands, opened his mouth to speak - and was then hollered at by his coach. With one lingering look at Esca that had goosebumps freckling his arms, Marcus said, “Wait for me after the game.”
This time, Esca wouldn’t argue.
***
“Took you long enough,” Esca said from his spot atop the hood of Marcus’ car. He’d been leaning against the bumper of the sedate sedan for a while now, watching teens evacuate the school car park in droves.
The summer night was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of kicked up grass and dirt, sticky soda and cheap, high-school girl perfume.
The football team took the longest to free themselves from fans and well-wishers. Marcus strolled across the near-empty asphalt in bright red Converse, ratty gym shorts, and his grass-stained football jersey.
Esca couldn’t yet get used to seeing Marcus smile simply from Esca’s company. It felt like a hidden joke.
“And yet you waited,” Marcus said as he approached and dropped his gym bag on the ground. Before Esca could muster a reply, Marcus cupped the back of Esca’s neck and pulled him in for a long, quiet kiss.
Marcus tasted a bit like blood and Gatorade, but Esca didn’t care. He melted against the warmth of Marcus’ mouth, one hand bunching in the loose fabric at Marcus’ chest. Marcus uttered a soft sound, as if he’d tasted something delicious, and pulled back just enough to press his lips to the corner of Esca’s mouth.
“You really are such a liar,” Marcus said against Esca’s lips.
Esca’s breathy laughed surprised even him. “Says the so-called straight footballer.”
Marcus paused, opened his eyes and considered Esca for a long moment. His thumb brushed the back of Esca’s ear, eliciting a shiver.
“I’m not... I’m not anything, Esca. I told you. I just like you.”
“Why?” Esca could’ve bitten off his tongue for asking, but it was out now.
Marcus blinked. “I - why? I mean, why not?”
Esca’s eyebrows shot up. “Um. I believe you’ve listed my faults on previous occasions.”
“Ah. Well.” Marcus pulled away then, buried his hands in his pockets. Before Esca could feel cold, Marcus’ slow smile began to bloom once more, leaving Esca’s cheeks heating in return. “You’re the kind of person who makes me a better one.”
When Esca could only stare in confusion, Marcus’ smile sharpened to a playful grin that Esca had never seen before. “After all, you helped me get an A on that Baklava thing.”
Esca was laughing before he knew it. “Fuck off,” he said, smacking Marcus non-too-gently on the arm as he lurched from the car. “You just want me for my brains.”
“I never said otherwise,” Marcus said blandly, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he bent to grab his gym bag once more. “Wanna go home?”
Esca was really glad those bleachers hadn’t collapsed on him earlier. He grinned. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
“’Kay. Hold this.”
Before Esca could inquire, the gym bag was being shoved into his arms. Esca wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, what. This thing reeks of sweat, Marcus!”
“The things one does for love.”
“Well I definitely don’t love you now.”
END.
Series: The Eagle AU
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: PG-13
Length: 7,773
Warnings: Raging teenage emotions, very strong language... this is high school fluff featuring hormones, people.
Summary: It started out with a kissing booth kiss - how did it end up like this?
A/N: A freakishly long sequel to Worth More Than a Dollar. I genuinely haven’t a clue how this got away from me, but it did. Let’s just say Esca was being difficult. Enjoy!
The harsh light of morning assaulted Esca’s eyes as he slunk from his front door, called out by the shrill honking of Marina Aquila’s battered, beige station wagon. By the look on her face through the windscreen, she had enjoyed her weekend at the school faire. At least someone had.
“Well,” Marina said, before Esca had even fully buckled his seatbelt, “Don’t you look like a bucket full of sunshine.”
“Fuck you very much,” Esca said without malice, refusing to acknowledge the hulking figure slouched in the backseat of the car. As a rule, he and Marcus did not particularly exchange greetings.
Marina laughed and glanced over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway, her thick, dark ponytail swishing with each movement. “How was the rest of your weekend?”
Esca did not flash back to Saturday - to the way he’d so boldly leaned into the window of Marcus’ kissing booth and basically asked for a snog. Esca also did not think of the sexually-frustrating Sunday that followed. Fuck’s sake.
“Boring. You raise enough money for your bits of material that vaguely amount to skirts?”
“And then some.” Marina whizzed past a stop sign with barely a pause, eliciting a hiss from Marcus. “Anyway,” Marina said, as if she weren’t putting their lives at risk with every turn, “Even if you don’t appreciate it, the football team does. Isn’t that right, Marcus?”
“What - I don’t know,” Marcus said with a hoarse, sleepy mumble.
“Don’t play coy,” Marina said with a wide, stunning smile that Esca knew Marcus also had, although he never chose to flash it. “As I happen to know that one of my squad asked you out at the faire on Saturday. Obviously you do take the skirts into consideration.”
Esca felt his face flame up and quickly shifted so Marina wouldn’t catch the reaction. He manually unrolled the piece of crap window and slumped down in his seat, letting the cool morning air whip across his face. Saturday? The same day they had -
“Well, I wasn’t going to say no.”
“Obviously,” Marina said. “No one says no to Blythe Daily.”
“Blythe?” Esca said, before he could muffle his own reaction. He barked a sharp laugh. “What kind of name is Blythe? Is she a lost member of the Babysitter’s Club?”
Marina flicked an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she screeched to a sharp halt, just inches from the bumper of the truck before them.
“And who was the last person you went on a date with?” Marcus said casually. Too casually to have cared about the kiss in the way that Esca had.
Esca picked at the threads of a growing rip in his jeans. He hadn’t particularly dated anyone at all, and Marcus well knew that. Esca and Marina practically lived in each other’s pockets, and Marcus was inevitably around for much of it.
“Esca’s been on plenty of dates, doofus,” Marina said with the ease of a natural-born liar. Esca could’ve kissed her right then and there. “He’s just too classy to out all the hot gay men who want to tap that. I, on the other hand, haven’t a speck of class, so I’m allowed to brag for him.”
Marcus was silent. Esca took the moment to dare a look in the rear-view mirror - and found amber-green eyes locked on his for a brief spark of time. Esca’s heart took a running jump against his ribs, a loud, painful thump sounding in his burning ears as he glanced away.
Esca swallowed tightly and struggled for normalcy. Right about now, normalcy would be brilliant. “It’s alright, Rena. Let him have his moment in the spotlight. He’s snogged half the school now - probability allows that at least one of the horde will be desperate enough to give another go.”
Marcus didn’t defend himself, while Marina gave a delighted giggle. “Esca, rude. Rude and accurate.”
Esca smirked to himself and flicked on the radio. He spent the next few minutes to school fiddling with the channels, unhappy with all of them. His feet tapped to no tune, excess energy like a humming second skin.
Blythe-fucking-Daily. Who the fuck was that? Figured Marcus would go for boring. A footballer dating a cheerleader. What a match.
And to think Esca had thought more of Marcus. Had found him vastly more fascinating than any knuckleheaded jock that strutted through the halls, like they had bollocks too big for their bodies. Well, that was just one more reason Esca needed to get over this - this disturbing attraction, which had lasted far too long.
“Marcus,” Marina said, her voice bright and undoubtedly laced with mischief. “Hey, Marcus.”
“What,” Marcus said gruffly. Definitely his sulking voice. Esca remembered it from their early years, when Marina would always get her way and end up putting on a Disney film, while Marcus wanted to play Nintendo.
“Whatcha gonna do on your da-aate?” She sing-songed the final word, definitely teasing. Definitely going to rub it in and ask inappropriate questions later. That was just Marina.
Silence, then, “We’re going to see the new scary movie that’s coming out on Friday.”
“Oh,” Marina said, clearly delighted as she pulled into the school car park. “Good choice. She can cuddle into your big strong arms at the scary parts, and you can pretend that you’re not shitting yourself at both the movie and foreign female contact.”
Esca snorted a laugh. If only Marcus were so averse to girls. At least, then - then what? Then, nothing. Even if that were the case, Esca couldn’t - wouldn’t - pursue something like...
Hot bubbles of frustration - of anger - began to roil and boil in Esca’s belly. Pressing his lips together hard, Esca recalled a night just a year ago.
Halloween, and he and Marina had stumbled in from a party; tripped over each other as they’d fallen into the living room where Marcus was curled on the couch. Marina had dropped onto a plump recliner and promptly passed out, while Esca had flung himself onto the couch beside Marcus.
Even drunk, Esca could remember that Marcus’ hair had been long and spiked, then - not shaved down, like now. He’d been knackered and doe-eyed when Esca and Marina had come in; had looked up at them with lazy blinks as he remained huddled in pyjama bottoms, a ratty Gap hoodie, and a patchwork quilt.
“You’re so fucking boring,” Esca said with a slight slur as he wheedled his way beneath the same blanket.
“I prefer it over being a wreck,” Marcus said placidly, scooting over to make room for Esca’s flailing limbs.
Esca had just grinned. “What’s on?”
“Halloween, original.”
“Oooh.” Esca settled beside Marcus, already beginning to lean into his space, curl against that big, warm body. “Love the classics.”
“Same,” Marcus said, a slight smile pulling at his lips.
And for that night, there had been a truce on whatever it was that had them constantly polarising. They’d grown excited over the scary parts, laughed at the dated bits, and had given twin, jaw-cracking yawns by the end.
Esca couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but he did remember waking up in the middle of the night with his cheek smushed against the crook of Marcus’ neck. The span of Marcus’ long, lightly muscled torso had been carved just for Esca’s form to fit against. He’d smelled like buttered popcorn and Irish Spring soap. That moment had been - it had been stupidly fucking perfect.
Before Marina had even shifted gears into park, Esca was saying his goodbyes to her and shooting from the car. He needed to breathe. He needed to centre himself. He needed to remind himself that Marcus Aquila was off limits - and even if he wasn’t, Marcus didn’t want Esca, anyway.
***
Esca groaned and rolled over on Marina’s bed, burying his face in a pillow that smelled of peach and mint. “There is only so much America’s Next Top Model I can watch.”
“Blasphemy. What kind of queer are you?”
“One with taste,” Esca said, his voice muffled and tired.
“Well, what do you want to do?” The mattress lurched as Marina sat up and switched off the television.
“Dunno.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Esca,” Marina said with exasperation. She shoved Esca’s side, hard - which was, for the record, quite hard, as the girl was nearing six feet tall and held cheerleaders on her shoulders for fun. “What the fuck is your problem this week?”
Esca looked up from the pillow he was clutching and gave Marina the stink-eye. “Nothing -why?”
Marina flicked an eyebrow. “ Cramps? Do you need some Midol - chocolate? Because aside from that, I seriously can’t figure out what’s had you in such a mood.”
"I guess I've just been feeling restless. Out of sorts or something."
"Or something," Marina said with her eyebrows raised.
Esca stared back coolly, unwilling to be the one to disengage and give the game away. "Wanna go to the cinema?"
Marina laughed. "The cinema? How long have you been living here, now? It's the movies, darling."
Esca gave her a bland stare. "Well, golly gee, I am so darn sorry. Ya'll wanna go to the movies with me?"
"Okay, that's just frightening. Let's never do it again." Marina pursed her lips. "Isn't Marcus' movie date tonight?"
Esca feigned mild interest as he picked at a hangnail. "Is it?"
Marina got that glint in her eye. The same one she got when she was fifteen and growing tits and decided she'd lift her shirt to Liathan Prince to find out what reaction she'd get. The same look as when she'd planned a house party while her parents were away and ended up filling the hot tub with bubble bath - and promptly blamed it on Marcus, who was the only one found in the house the next morning, when their parents showed up.
"You know it is. Hey," she said with a grin, "why don't we do some recon work tonight?"
Esca didn't even pretend not to know what she was talking about. While his ears heated and his heart thundered, he allowed a smirk. "If that's how you want to spend your Friday night, love."
Marina thwacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Fuck off, I know you're as curious as I am."
"Why would I be curious?" Esca said, making a show of rubbing his arm.
Marina gave him a pointed look. "Because."
Esca rolled his eyes, but the nonchalance went as deep as his buzzing skin. "Well, I wanted to see that one film anyway."
Marina hooted with enthusiasm. "That's the spirit!"
***
Esca didn't know why he had to torture himself like this. Why, for the past years he'd watched Marcus grow up from afar, when he could’ve just jumped in and befriended him. Fuck knows Marcus had given him enough opportunities.
But every time it had just felt wrong. First it had been because Esca had been terrified of his instant attraction to Marcus. At twelve it hadn't been so nefarious - more like, the minute Esca had seen those long gangly limbs, that warm summer tan, that slow smile - he'd felt like curling up on Marcus' lap and never moving again.
Life had been a bit shite back then. New world, new culture. Esca had been grossly out of his element. Then he’d met Marcus and the sheer unexpected depth of his reaction to Marcus’ initial natural generosity had swept Esca off his feet and dragged him to drowning point. Even at twelve, Esca had known that he was in riding a dangerous wave.
Yet, here he was, taking himself deeper than was really logically safe. And at the moment? Esca didn’t fucking care.
Scratch that. Esca didn’t care until he stood at the serving counter, staring up at the menu board and cursing the inflating price of popcorn.
“Esca?”
For a split second, Esca utterly froze. But he liked to think he was quicker on his feet than the average teenager, and so quickly stole himself and looked over his shoulder with a bored expression. He gave Marcus’ sunny blonde date a dismissive once over and aimed a smirk Marcus’ way.
“Well don’t you two just look adorable together.”
Marcus’ face went ruddy, while Blythe - again, what the fuck name was Blythe - just smiled brightly and gripped Marcus’ arm tighter. “I know, right? I don’t think we’ve really met, though. I’ve seen you with Marina before.”
Esca smiled wanly. “We’re practically attached at the hip.”
“Oh my gawd, your accent is seriously fab,” Blythe said at a stunningly high pitch.
“Are you on a -” Marcus said, stopping himself abruptly. He wouldn’t meet Esca’s searching gaze. “I mean, who’d you come with?”
“The more superior of the Aquila siblings,” Esca said, swallowing tightly and forcing himself not to obviously linger on the long, bronze line of Marcus’ throat in casual polo top. “She’s - she’s getting good seats. Apparently I’m to pay for the sustenance.”
“So what movie are you seeing?” Blythe said, leaning her head on Marcus’ broad shoulder. Esca wanted to rip out her perfect, perky curls, Mean Girls style.
“Same as you, actually,” Esca said, his attention still fixed on Marcus. He looked to be growing redder by the second. Esca couldn’t figure why Marcus was embarrassed, but at least it outwardly gave Esca the upper-hand. No one else had to know that his knees were shaking. “Don’t worry,” Esca said with a sharp grin. “We won’t sit too close. Wouldn’t want to ruin any moments.”
While Blythe giggled wildly and Marcus looked like he was about to go into anaphylactic shock, Esca gave a mock-cheerful wave and turned on his heel to make his order. To engage in further conversation with those two would have been more than even he could take. So when Marcus and Blythe went to a different register to order and talked softly to each other, Esca was relieved.
Wait, no. He was still choking on an encompassing shade of green.
***
“Long line?” Marina said as Esca flopped onto the seat beside her. She’d hoarded the furthest back seat, directly in the centre of the row - the best spot for fucking about, honestly.
“Not really. I ran into the lovebirds,” Esca said, and handed over a massive soda and a box of Junior Mints. He set his own drink aside and began a poor, bag-crackling attempt to open his sour gummy worms.
Marina snorted and slouched down, sandwiching her knees up against the seat before her. “Who are you, Dezi Arnez? Nobody says lovebirds. Gross.”
“Gross? How old are you?”
“Old enough to be creeped out by the idea of my little brother dating anybody.”
“You didn’t seem creeped out when you practically held me at gunpoint to get me to kiss your little brother.”
The fact that Marina didn’t reply was more unsettling than it was a win. Esca shifted uncomfortably and bit down on any searching questions that might spit their way out. Instead, he ripped open the package of his gummies - and, consequently, sent worms flying through the air like sugary confetti.
Marina’s squeal of laughter was immediate and Esca’s unmanly giggles tumbled quickly after. Esca was gasping, his shoulders shaking with unbidden mirth as he ran his hands through his hair and sent sour sugar spraying everywhere. When he looked up to grin wildly at Marina, Esca instead found himself looking past her and meeting Marcus’ shadowed gaze in the dimly lit theatre.
Esca refused to allow himself to blush. Instead he cocked his head at the couple and raised an eyebrow, his mouth still pulling in a grin. “Minor calamity. Carry on - nothing to see here.”
Marcus’ look was indistinguishable as he turned without a word and continued to walk down the aisle with his date.
“Way to say ‘hi’ to your sister, by the way!” Marina said at her non-indoor voice. No one particularly seemed the care - the film hadn’t begun, anyway.
“Hi, by the way,” Marcus said back with ease.
“He’s such a dick,” Marina said without heat as she dusted sugar off of her jeans.
“You’re both dicks.”
“If we’re dicks, you’re a bitch.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Now who can’t seem to remember their age?” Marina slid an amused glance Esca’s way.
Esca smiled easily, but he couldn’t seem to help himself from flicking his attention towards the middle centre, where Marcus and Blythe took their seats. When Marcus said something in Blythe’s ear and she tittered, Esca felt his stomach drop and his throat constrict. Fuck. He really was a martyr.
Thankfully, the lights dimmed and the couple became nothing but a silhouette against the screen. Esca released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and crammed several gummy worms into his mouth.
“So,” Marina said at a whisper, leaning in while the previews rolled, “You never did tell me about that kiss.”
To Esca’s credit, he did not choke. Instead, he aimed a droll look her way - which was likely rather uninspiring, as he had chipmunk cheeks filled with sweets. “What. It wasn’t anything. It was vanilla, just like your brother.”
“Really? Because you haven’t said a word about it since it happened. I had money on you coming back to rage at me about the injustice of high school and the hierarchy of cheerleaders, and how they manipulate lesser beings to do their bidding.”
Esca swallowed and looked to the flashing film screen. With his words precise and even, he said, “Yes. All of that.”
“Uh huh,” Marina said in a curious tone, leaning back in her seat with a sigh.
Esca was certainly not going to inquire.
“What does ‘uh huh’ mean?” Esca said, wondering if it was physically possible to strangle himself with his own hands.
Marina barely glanced his way and kept her voice low. “What do you mean what does it mean? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, it obviously implies something if you’ve taken the time to say it.”
Marina stared at Esca with an arched eyebrow. “Don’t worry so much, Esca. It’s not obvious to anyone but me.”
Esca balked and felt his ears set on fire. “Wh- how? How?”
Marina shrugged and turned back to the screen, sipped from her straw. Then, “You make it so abundantly clear that you don’t care for him that it gets kind of, well, clear that it’s the very opposite.”
“I hate you.”
“Watch the fucking movie, Esca.”
***
Esca did not watch the fucking film.
Not what stupid Marcus and stupid Blythe were in front of him. Esca was busy drilling holes into the back of their heads while their silhouettes did disgusting things like lean on each other. And Blythe did not need to whisper that near to Marcus’ hear. He wasn’t bloody deaf.
When Esca heard Blythe’s faint giggle and watched her attempt to feed Marcus some popcorn, Esca knew he was going to be sick. He didn’t excuse himself as he clumsily jumped from his chair and escaped the theatre.
Without anywhere else to go, he made a beeline for the toilets. He would hide in there until he didn’t feel like ripping Marcus’ hair out or possibly punching himself in the face.
Splashing his cheeks with water, Esca leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why had one silly fucking snog turned him into this? Pathetic.
“Oh,” said a familiar voice that rolled through Esca’s frame.
Esca stiffened and opened his eyes to stare at the reflection beside his. “Hi,” he said, short and clipped.
Marcus’ forehead was creased as he rubbed the back of his neck and inspected Esca with those stupid doe eyes of his. “What’s your problem?”
Catching a flash of his own haughty expression as he turned from the mirror, Esca shifted and hefted himself onto the slightly damp countertop to properly cripple Marcus with a single look. Unfortunately, if there was one thing both of the Aquila siblings possessed, it was an apparent immunity to Esca’s sass. So when Aquila merely stared back with his head cocked and his eyes steady, Esca heaved a sigh.
“What? Nothing. It simply a bit greeby to watch your mountainous shadow get it’s awkward on with a poor wee cheerleader.”
“What the crap is ‘greeby’?” Marcus said as he moved to the urinals.
Esca rolled his eyes and looked away, folding his arms across his chest. “Gross and creepy. The epitome of every hot-blooded, American, high-school male.”
“So, you too?”
“Hence, my specification of American.”
“Well, my family is Italian.”
Esca’s could feel his face reddening. “You know what I mean.”
“I never know what you mean, Esca. Ever.”
Esca whirled to stare hard at Marcus, as he zipped up and ambled to the sink beside where Esca sat. Marcus’ hip brushed Esca’s knee, Marcus’ bowed head aligned with Esca’s profile. Betraying himself on a level that was truly sad, Esca inhaled a discreet breath and caught the familiar forested musk of Marcus’ skin. No cologne, not even for a date. Simple, genuine - Marcus.
Esca bit back a groan and canted his chin toward Marcus, resolutely ignoring the sheer length of those thick eyelashes. Instead, he looked to Marcus’ hands as he washed them. Large, brown hands; calloused fingers and blunt nails. Perfect, wide palms for possessing, encompassing Esca’s hips and bruising his wrists.
“Seriously, though,” Marcus said as he wiped his dripping hands on his jeans. “You’ve been exceptionally bitchy with me for the past week, and I’m kinda sick of it.” Marcus’ gaze was steady as he rested one hand on the counter, his warm thumb contoured to Esca’s thigh. “I know you don’t like me, Esca - you never have. But I thought we at least got along when we had to.”
Esca felt his cheeks fry, knew his face was turning into a tomato as he went dead still. “Who thought we ever got along?” Esca said, feeling a vile spew of words struggling up his throat. “Who would ever want to get along with you? It would be like befriending a houseplant, but with worse conversational skills.”
Marcus’ jaw worked beneath shaved, olive skin, the sinews of his neck going tight as he leaned in to Esca’s space, loomed in with a heavy air of threat that Esca had never once seen or experienced. Marcus’ voice was dark, a tremor lining his words like distant thunder.
“So what are you doing here, Esca?” Marcus’ gaze flicked down once - maybe to Esca’s mouth, or maybe fantasising about strangling Esca with one hand, Esca didn’t know - and then back to pierce through Esca’s heart, his lungs. “Why are you here when you could’ve walked out the minute I came in?”
Esca sputtered, his breath catching on his tongue. “I -”
“Why do you get a ride to school every morning if you live like two blocks away?”
“Well, I -”
“And why -” Marcus’ eyes scoured over Esca’s face, the colour rising in his own tan cheekbones. “Why is it that every time I think we can be friends, that you’re - you’re great and funny and still a dick but not mean about it - why is that it’s then when you turn around and act like - like -” Marcus gestured widely at Esca, nearly skelping him in the face. “The kind of person I wouldn’t normally go near with a ten foot pole.”
“Well I’m glad we’ve got our places sorted then,” Esca said with a snarl. He pushed off the countertop, his palms already slapping against Marcus’ chest and shoving him away. “You there, me here. Or, better yet, like you said, ten feet awa-”
“You know,” Marcus said from between clenched teeth, “I actually got it into my head that when we’d - uh.” Marcus went very suddenly red, from neck to hairline. Esca’s heart hurtled towards his stomach with sickening force. Marcus glanced away, but continued on with apparent difficulty. “That when we’d kissed -”
“For money. And I was forced to,” Esca said, quick to interject and shocked he could actually speak with the way his face was going numb from horror.
“That you’d finally gotten over yourself.”
Esca’s jaw dropped - for a second, it truly did. “G-gotten over myself? Me? Right. Well -” Esca turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, unable to look Marcus in the eye and hating himself for it. “Well, cheers for helping me finally get over you. Cock!”
With fire snapping at his heels, Esca stormed from the bathroom and blindly made for the direction of the theatre. His bottom lip felt angry-hot and swollen between the thoughtless bite of his teeth, his cheeks burning with - with - UGH.
Esca burst through the first set of double doors, the distant sound of a shriek from behind the next set sounding like fucking music to his ears at this point. He’d really enjoy having a bit of a scream right now.
And he nearly did shout with frustration when strong, cool fingers shackled Esca’s wrist and pulled him back. Esca rounded on Marcus in the dim shadows and yanked his hand away. His shoulder sang with pain when Marcus didn’t budge, didn’t release.
“What?” Esca said with a hiss, forcing himself to lock eyes with Marcus. “What could you -”
“Did you mean that?” Marcus said, his expression and tone unwavering.
“That you’re a cock? Every word.” Esca’s hands were shaking. Shit. He attempted to tear himself away again, only to find himself inexplicably slammed against the wall and glaring up at a Marcus’ frowning mouth and furrowed brow.
“Did you mean it?” Marcus said again, his voice cracking. This time, for the first time, he sounded more breakable than Esca felt.
Esca’s tongue froze, his bones chilling and stilling until he was sure he would simply shatter against the subtle contour of Marcus’ body against his own. Because, when it came down to it, Esca couldn’t find it in him to reply.
What would Marcus do with knowledge like that? Probably not make Esca’s life a living hell or anything - Marcus wasn’t that kind of person.
No, it would be worse. Marcus would pity him. Esca, the poor wee gay guy.
Esca forced a sharp, short laugh and ignored the brief clench of Marcus’ grasp on his wrist. Marcus’ hand dwarfed Esca’s; surprisingly calloused, invigoratingly heavy. “I didn’t.”
Marcus’ breath hitched, released long and slow. “Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t mean it.” Esca’s ribcage felt razor-sharp, with every deafening pulse thudding against his breast slicing at his heart. “Obviously. Can you let me the fuck go now?”
“No.”
Esca’s heated protests were cut off my Marcus’ mouth. With the first faint taste of popcorn-salty lips, Esca’s concerns of fear and pride scattered. He didn’t know which one of them murmured the brief, breathy moan, but Marcus’ body was all hard, heady insistence against Esca’s own, and all Esca could think was that his knees would give out at any moment.
Marcus’ hands were a gentleman’s hands; wide, hot palms encompassing the jut of Esca’s hips. But the long, muscular thigh wedging between Esca’s legs was not, and neither was the slick swipe of Marcus’ tongue along Esca’s sensitive lower lip. Marcus wasn’t asking for permission - he was coaxing it out.
Apparently Marcus didn’t realise that Esca was already there. Had been there since the first kiss - had been there since before it.
But this was still different. Still new, frightening territory. This was no begrudging kissing booth snog. This was Marcus kissing Esca because he wanted to. These were Marcus’ full, distracting lips sliding over Esca’s with pulse-racing purpose, with the intent flick and dip of tongue to capture and taste.
Esca huffed a shaky breath against Marcus’ mouth, slung his arms around the nape of Marcus’ neck and dove in. He felt Marcus still for a moment, as if he didn’t believe Esca would reciprocate so strongly - and then he sighed. Marcus actually sighed for Esca. An electric thrill shivered down Esca’s spine as he thrust his tongue into the wet heat of Marcus’ mouth, savoured the sharp ridge of Marcus’ teeth and utterly forgot to breathe.
A shrill scream sounded from the theatre, followed by the gasps and yelps from the audience - and both Esca’s and Marcus’ eyes shot open.
Esca was the first to untangle himself from Marcus, but found himself still between the wall and Marcus. He crossed his arms over his chest and aimed a narrow look at Marcus, hoping to look vaguely threatening even when he could feel that his cheeks were flushed and his lips left aching.
“Go away, Marcus.”
“You were lying,” Marcus said, the faint tremor in his voice satisfying Esca.
Esca raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You let yourself think that.”
Marcus shoved his hands in his pockets, his posture slightly slouching. His eyes were shadowed, his words a low rumble. “I like you, Esca. Maybe not as long as you’ve liked me -”
“Fuck you.”
“But at least I’m not afraid to admit it.” Marcus shrugged and turned, heading for the theatre. “Don’t be a chicken. It doesn’t suit you.”
The double doors opened, a flood of light and dialogue crashing over Esca as he watched Marcus disappear down the aisle.
Well, shit. He’d just been owned by Marcus Aquila.
***
“So,” Marina said with obvious amusement as they filed out of the theatre, “You and my brother were gone a long time.”
Esca winced. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But -”
“Seriously, Rena.”
Marina pouted as they idly bumped shoulders on their way to the car park. “Okay,” she said simply. “Wanna sleep over, though?”
“Yeah,” Esca said with a heave of breath. “I do.”
***
Around one in the morning, Esca gave up on sleeping and slipped out of Marina’s bedroom. He needed a distraction.
I like you, Esca.
Esca snorted derisively as he padded downstairs. He hadn’t brought overnight clothes, so he was dressed in one of Marina’s old cheerleading camp shirts and a pair of light blue and lavender plaid pyjama pants that fit well at the waist, but were miles too long.
The soft murmur of the television from down the hall had Esca frowning as he crept down to corridor. Apparently someone else couldn’t sleep. Esca guessed Mr. Aquila. He’d served in some military or other - Esca never paid much attention - and didn’t sleep well. Esca had run into Mr. Aquila on many late nights.
Instead, when Esca peeked around the corner and into the living room, he found Marcus’ quiet profile awash in misty blue light. An old rerun of the original Iron Chef was on, the commentator speaking in rapid, animated Japanese.
For some reason, that alone made Esca smile - calmed the tension that had been fisting tight in his stomach. Marcus loved cooking shows. He couldn’t make toast without burning it.
Stepping lightly into the room, Esca approached the back of the sofa. Marcus jumped a bit, somehow noting Esca’s presence, and looked up over his shoulder with half-mast eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He blinked rapidly, his expression clearing and his lips tugging into a soft frown.
“Esca?” He said, his voice gruff with sleep.
“Do you remember,” Esca said, his voice pitched low as lofted over the couch and settled down a safe distance from Marcus afghan-covered body, “in freshman year we had to give a presentation on a country assigned to us?”
Marcus rubbed one of his eyes and stifled a yawn. “Yeah?”
“And you got Greece and wanted to make Baklava for the class.” Esca pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling. “I walked into your kitchen and found you basically covered in honey from fingers to elbows.”
Marcus’ lips twitched as he cocked his head and considered Esca. “There were a lot of pistachios stuck to me.”
Esca huffed a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “The recipe you’d printed out had all these detailed notes scribbled on them, like you thought you were going to invent a new, genius version of Baklava that would get you an A+ for the entire semester.”
“And you stood there and made fun of me for a good ten minutes,” Marcus said, not sounding annoyed in the slightest.
Esca shrugged and looked to the screen, watching someone attempt to make beetroot ice cream. “You were incredibly pathetic.”
“And then you helped me,” Marcus said, so hushed that Esca almost missed it.
“Well.” Esca glanced down and plucked at a frayed string on his pyjamas. “You were incredibly pathetic.”
They fell into a lull for a time, Esca finding solace in sitting side-by-side, watching shitty, late-night television. Esca’s arms felt chilled, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to ruin the fragile comfort.
“Hey, Marcus?”
“Mmm?”
Esca winged a look Marcus’ way and found him slouched to the side, his temple pillowed on the armrest and his eyes closed. The very faint freckles scattered over Marcus’ nose were highlight by the television’s glow, and his long, lush eyelashes casted dramatic shadows across his cheeks.
With his heart thudding in his throat, Esca brought his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Resting his chin on his bony knees, he watched Marcus with a frown.
“I like you, too,” Esca said.
When no reply came for a good minute, Esca released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment that seized his lungs, but at least he’d said it out loud. He wouldn’t be saying it again.
“Come ‘ere,” Marcus said, his voice slurred. He lifted one arm while gripping the edge of the blanket, holding out what appeared to be a welcoming wing for Esca to crawl beneath.
Esca was really fucking glad that Marcus’ eyes were shut, so that he didn’t see the pure horror wash over his face. “Are you having a laugh?”
“Seem like it t’you?”
Esca gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to fucking cuddle with you just because -”
“Chicken.”
Sputtering and speechless, Esca gawked at Marcus. “I’m not scared.”
“So?” Marcus’ arm remained raised.
Esca contorted his face into that of pure pain as he unfolded his limbs and scooted across the couch. Before he could make a show of obliterating his pride and being the little spoon, Marcus swept his arm around Esca and tucked him in. Marcus’s chest was warm against Esca’s back, the distant pulse of Marcus’ heart through their t-shirts like a clock counting down the seconds to the point in which Esca utterly imploded.
“Relax.” Marcus’ voice in all hoarse in Esca’s ear had him twitching.
“Why are you doing this, Marcus?” Esca said tightly. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Rest them on Marcus’? Chop them off?
“I told you. I like you.”
“Ha. Simple as that?”
To Esca’s growing horror, Marcus shifted and placed a kiss on Esca’s ear. Languid warmth flooded through Esca’s limbs, left him breathless and bewildered.
“Yeah,” Marcus said. “Simple as that. ‘Night.”
Esca stared blankly at the television and wondered how Marcus kept on getting in the last word.
***
“I’m gonna go ahead,” Marina said from her spot before the Esca and Marcus tangled up on the couch, “and guess that your date with Blythe didn’t go very well.”
If Esca had to guess, the speed at which Esca and Marcus separated on the couch was almost Olympic. Standing on sleep-wobbly legs, Esca darted looks between the Aquila siblings and considered simply jumping through the window and running down the street.
Marcus was silent, too, as ran his palms over his slumber-flushed face. “Guess so,” he said from behind his hands. Esca couldn’t tell if he was blushing or just tired.
“I’ll just be going,” Esca said, his tone definitely too high-pitched. He didn’t spare Marcus a look as he dashed upstairs to gather his things. His footsteps thundered up the stairs, drowning out whatever conversation Marina seemed to jump right into upon his vacating the room. By the clipped sound of her voice, she didn’t sound too happy, though.
After changing into yesterday’s clothing with shaking hands, Esca found himself sitting on Marina’s bed with his hands folded atop his lap. He stared blandly at her wall of shining trophies and wondering what the hell was going on with his life these past two weeks.
More than that, what the fuck was Marcus doing with him? If it were anyone else but Marcus, Esca would think this was some kind of cruel joke. Since it was Marcus... well, since it was him, Esca didn’t have a clue.
Straight guys didn’t just kiss another guy and become gay. In Esca’s dreams, yes. In reality, no. So what did that make Marcus? Esca didn’t trust this situation for a second.
Taking a deep breath, Esca stood and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to go home. He needed space.
Unfortunately, upon yanking open the door, he found Marcus standing there with one hand raised, as if to knock.
“Uh,” Esca said. Oh good, now he was speaking on Marcus’ level. “I’m going home.” He swept past Marcus.
“Wait.” Marcus reached for Esca’s elbow. “Esca.”
“Oiy.” Esca whirled on Marcus, taking a purposeful pause to lower his voice so that no one might eavesdrop. “I don’t know what’s with you, but quit it, yeah?”
“What’s with me?” Marcus leaned in, his eyes a strong, clear amber. “What’s with you? I can’t - I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all. The minute I think I have a hold on you, I lose it. The minute I think I see you, you’re gone.”
The hope that alighted within Esca’s chest was stamped down by panic. “I don’t like games, Marcus. And I don’t like you.”
Esca ran. He was definitely a chicken.
***
A week passed. A very awkward week.
Esca walked to school because, as Marcus had pointed out, it wasn’t that far. He studied hard because the end of the school year was coming to a close. He researched universities. He considered moving back to the UK.
And he definitely did not think of Marcus, and of how Esca had royally fucked things up.
Esca couldn’t even talk to Marina about this. Bless that bitch, but if she knew all of the details that she was currently needling for, she would definitely run and tell her little brother how head-over-fucking-heels Esca was for Marcus. Marina liked to think she was some sort of master matchmaker. She was actually just damn nosey.
On the following Friday night, it was definitely Marina’s nosiness which Esca blamed for his life’s current debacle. Namely, attending the Friday night football game. She’d begged and bribed him, reminding Esca that this was the final football game of Marina’s high school cheerleading career, and that Esca should be there to witness her glittering awesomeness.
Esca couldn’t really argue with that. Not without feeling like a complete dick.
It also meant watching Marcus race across the field with flexing, muscular thighs and beautifully defined forearms and - ugh. Torture.
By half-time, Esca was a roiling mass of tension and repressed agitation. He watched Marcus pull off his helmet, his cheekbones glistening with sweat beneath the floodlights. His smile was easy, stupidly white as he looked into the cheering crowd and gave an almost shy little wave.
Then he saw Esca in the front row, sitting behind the cheerleaders, and frowned. He paused, shifted towards Esca as if to head over to him. Esca’s chest swelled, his chin raising and lips parting, instinctively preparing to call out.
Marcus turned away.
Esca hoped the bleachers would collapse on top of him.
“Can I be honest with you?” Marina said as she dropped beside Esca and leaned towards his ear. The crowd was bright and crashing around them, so at odds with how fucking alone Esca felt.
Esca glanced Marina’s way and shrugged.
Marina’s lips curved. She cupped her hands around her mouth and brought them to Esca’s ear. “You’re acting like a pussy.”
Esca was fairly sure he’d never done a double-take in his life, until now. “W-wha - I - what?”
“You’re acting like a Blythe, Esca. Like a stupid, weak, lovesick girl without a backbone.” Marina sat back and shrugged at Esca’s open-mouthed gape. “I’m just telling you how it is, darling. Get over it.”
“And do what, exactly?” Esca said, trying not to sound like he was whining.
Marina waved a hand vaguely and smiled at the emptied field. “Oh, I don’t know. Go and get your man?”
“My -” Esca laughed out loud at that. “He’s not my man.”
Marina slid a long glance his way. “And whose fault is that, Esca?”
Some of Marina’s pals began to call at her, so Marina left Esca with a pat on the thigh. Esca blinked up at the blinding floodlights and said, “Well, shit.”
Getting to his feet felt like more of an ordeal that it should have, but Esca got there. Looking around, he shoved his antsy hands in his pockets and made his way to the edge of the bleachers. The team would be back out shortly for the second half. All Esca had to do was wait.
He hated waiting.
For Marcus, Esca would wait.
When he saw the pack of big oafs strutting towards him, all of them laughing and joking with each other as they passed, Esca nearly lost his nerve. That was, until the last person in the line began to brush by. This time it was Esca who grabbed at Marcus’ wrist and pulled him away.
“Wh- Esca?” Marcus didn’t look particularly pleased to see him, but he didn’t jerk from Esca’s hold either. “What do you want?”
Marcus’ pulse was a rapid thrum beneath the pad of Esca’s thumb. A wave of giddiness engulfed Esca.
“I like you, Marcus,” Esca said quickly, sharply. He knew he was frowning, and this wasn’t the most romantic thing ever - but damn, he was trying here.
“Huh?” Marcus pitched his voice above the crowd as he leaned in with his brow furrowed. “I can’t hear you.”
Esca bit back his instinctual snark. With a deep breath, he pulled on Marcus’ wrist hard, nearly bumping their chests together. Esca went to his toes, his mouth whispering across Marcus’ jaw as Esca brought himself to a shout.
“I said I like you, fucking knobhead!”
Marcus jerked back, his palm moving to cover his offended ear. “You didn’t have to yell it!”
“Well, you’re fucking deaf, apparently! And you’re yelling, too.”
Esca felt his face and neck going hot and red with embarrassment - until he realised that Marcus was smiling. Laughing.
Fisting his hands on his hips, Esca glowered at Marcus as he watched him bring his hands to his knees and near keel-over. “Oh, is this funny to you?” Esca said, even as his lips twitched.
“No.” Marcus stood tall once more, his face flushed with amusement, his eyes bright. “Definitely not. There’s nothing at all funny about your screaming a declaration of love into my ear and then calling me a dickhead.”
Esca’s eyes widened. “That was not a declaration of love. Don’t be gross.”
Marcus held up his hands, opened his mouth to speak - and was then hollered at by his coach. With one lingering look at Esca that had goosebumps freckling his arms, Marcus said, “Wait for me after the game.”
This time, Esca wouldn’t argue.
***
“Took you long enough,” Esca said from his spot atop the hood of Marcus’ car. He’d been leaning against the bumper of the sedate sedan for a while now, watching teens evacuate the school car park in droves.
The summer night was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of kicked up grass and dirt, sticky soda and cheap, high-school girl perfume.
The football team took the longest to free themselves from fans and well-wishers. Marcus strolled across the near-empty asphalt in bright red Converse, ratty gym shorts, and his grass-stained football jersey.
Esca couldn’t yet get used to seeing Marcus smile simply from Esca’s company. It felt like a hidden joke.
“And yet you waited,” Marcus said as he approached and dropped his gym bag on the ground. Before Esca could muster a reply, Marcus cupped the back of Esca’s neck and pulled him in for a long, quiet kiss.
Marcus tasted a bit like blood and Gatorade, but Esca didn’t care. He melted against the warmth of Marcus’ mouth, one hand bunching in the loose fabric at Marcus’ chest. Marcus uttered a soft sound, as if he’d tasted something delicious, and pulled back just enough to press his lips to the corner of Esca’s mouth.
“You really are such a liar,” Marcus said against Esca’s lips.
Esca’s breathy laughed surprised even him. “Says the so-called straight footballer.”
Marcus paused, opened his eyes and considered Esca for a long moment. His thumb brushed the back of Esca’s ear, eliciting a shiver.
“I’m not... I’m not anything, Esca. I told you. I just like you.”
“Why?” Esca could’ve bitten off his tongue for asking, but it was out now.
Marcus blinked. “I - why? I mean, why not?”
Esca’s eyebrows shot up. “Um. I believe you’ve listed my faults on previous occasions.”
“Ah. Well.” Marcus pulled away then, buried his hands in his pockets. Before Esca could feel cold, Marcus’ slow smile began to bloom once more, leaving Esca’s cheeks heating in return. “You’re the kind of person who makes me a better one.”
When Esca could only stare in confusion, Marcus’ smile sharpened to a playful grin that Esca had never seen before. “After all, you helped me get an A on that Baklava thing.”
Esca was laughing before he knew it. “Fuck off,” he said, smacking Marcus non-too-gently on the arm as he lurched from the car. “You just want me for my brains.”
“I never said otherwise,” Marcus said blandly, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he bent to grab his gym bag once more. “Wanna go home?”
Esca was really glad those bleachers hadn’t collapsed on him earlier. He grinned. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
“’Kay. Hold this.”
Before Esca could inquire, the gym bag was being shoved into his arms. Esca wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, what. This thing reeks of sweat, Marcus!”
“The things one does for love.”
“Well I definitely don’t love you now.”
END.