Mine, All Mine [PG-13]
Name: Mine, All Mine
Fandom: The Eagle
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: brief mild violence, use of copious amounts of alcohol
Summary: Marcus finds Esca in the arms of another and flips out.
Marcus thought the life of a farmer simple; there was no fighting save running off any predators that tried to get to their livestock, and the lack of bloodshed was a welcome difference from his life as a centurion. He could still work hard every day and feel like his life meant something, but unlike his previous work he could see he’d made a positive change in the earth. Vegetables sprung up from the soil in excess - enough to feed several families - and the number of livestock continued to grow, with healthy newborn sheep and calves appearing every year.
But if there was one thing he liked most about his new life, it was having Esca beside him as an equal. The Briton was a freed man, and the fact that he chose to stay with Marcus instead of venturing back to his people made him inexplicably happy. Esca seemed happy, too, even if he didn’t talk much; Marcus sincerely hoped his friend was happy to be there with him, living a simple farmer’s life.
They were friends now, and that was wonderful, but Marcus sometimes wondered if Esca ever dreamed such dreams as he so often did. His dreams were preoccupied with images of himself and Esca in much more intimate settings than reality allowed. He obsessed over these images until they began affecting his waking hours: he would trick himself into believing that Esca’s gaze was lingering on him, or he would manufacture a blush on the Briton’s cheeks where there was none. Marcus did his best to hide this truth from Esca... It wouldn’t do for him to confess something and frighten away his closest friend.
Being farmers didn’t mean they’d disappeared entirely from society. In fact, they were often invited out to parties (usually by Uncle Aquila) or political functions (usually by those who wished to parade their acquaintance of the Heroes of the Ninth). Marcus generally did not like parties (and he particularly detested political functions) but as Esca was always trying to remind him, there was free food to be had and neither of them had perfected the art of cooking much that didn’t taste like trail food or ash.
One of Aquila’s invitations had arrived by messenger that morning: they were to put on their finest tunics and prepare for a quaint gathering of friends. Marcus had rolled his eyes at that; to Uncle Aquila, a “quaint gathering of friends” meant a boisterous, wild party with everyone he knew and anyone who knew where to find some wine.
It was with a small measure of reluctance that Marcus accepted the invitation. He might have declined, but he didn’t want to disappoint his uncle and Esca looked fairly optimistic about the event. So they donned their best tunics and wandered on down to the old man’s estate with time to spare before the party officially started.
When Uncle Aquila first saw them, he pulled Marcus and Esca both into a crushing hug; apparently he’d already been at the wine for a while. “Marcus, you came!” he said excitedly. “Bring wine!” he shouted at the serving boy who was standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Bring some wine for the Heroes of the Ninth!”
Marcus patted his uncle’s shoulder, trying to calm him down so he wouldn’t get too excited before the majority of his guests arrived. He saw Esca take the two (rather large) goblets of wine from the serving boy and bring them over to him, and took one of them for his own. He drank heartily, already feeling like he would probably need to be less than sober to enjoy tonight’s excitement, and saw from the corner of his eye that Esca was doing the same. The serving boy soon came to give them more wine, and from that point on the night was a rose-colored blur.
The central hall of Aquila’s home was the picture of debauched revelry: someone had brought some dancing girls, and they were hard at work entertaining what seemed like the entirety of a Roman legion. The soldiers were drinking like there was no tomorrow, which for some of them may have been true. The hall was filled with laughter and shouting, and Marcus was laying back on some cushions near a pillar beside which Esca was sitting on a step. He turned to mention the rotation of crops he’d considered earlier that day, but when he started speaking he noticed that the man he was looking at was most certainly not Esca. He didn’t have Esca’s calm demeanor, or pronounced cheekbones, or his wise eyes.
Marcus got up and swayed on his feet, looking around the room for his friend and finding no one who looked remotely like him. He made his way up the steps and walked down the corridor, searching for his Esca in each of his uncle’s spacious rooms. He heard a moan coming from around the corner, and intended to go the opposite direction in his search, but then he heard a soft cry that sounded so much like Esca’s voice from his dreams that he couldn’t help continuing in the same direction.
He turned the corner, and immediately saw red - literally and figuratively. The red of the soldier’s cloak almost obscured the more subtle cream color of Esca’s tunic, but Marcus could clearly see their mouths attached as if by some invisible force. Esca’s hands were gripping the soldier’s shoulders tightly, while the other man’s thick arms were holding him close by the waist. They were pressed together from mouths to thighs, and Marcus felt anger rising in his chest.
Marcus grabbed the soldier’s shoulder and threw him back, holding Esca in place with his other arm and stepping in between the two. Before the other man had a chance to react, he pulled back his fist and punched him square in the nose. He was truly lucky that everyone knew him and his uncle, otherwise the man would have likely fought back. Instead he stumbled off groaning and holding his nose, and Marcus turned on his heel to face Esca.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice caught between angry and hurt. Waving his hand to cut off any response Esca could come up with, he lumbered forward until Esca was pressed up against the wall.
“If this is what you want, you’ll want it with me,” he half-growled, leaning in and kissing him like his life depended on it. He was surprised when the Briton kissed him back, slender fingers coming up to curl into his scalp and neck. He pressed even closer and slid his hands to Esca’s hips. Their kiss lasted until neither could keep up with kissing and breathing at the same time, after which Marcus pulled back just far enough to give them room to get air.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmured, sliding a hand up Esca’s side to cup his jaw and run his thumb over his cheekbone. “I just didn’t know you liked this sort of thing.”
Esca shook his head. “I didn’t, either.” They kissed again. “I started to realize it a few months after we came home.” Home... That filled Marcus with warmth, that Esca considered this home. “I started having dreams about you and...us.”
“I had those, too. I thought I was the only one,” Marcus replied, leaning in to kiss him softer than before. “What do we do now?”
“Well,” Esca began, words still slightly slurred with wine. “We could probably go home.”
Marcus thought that was a grand idea, and so the two stumbled off toward the farm with their arms around each others’ waists and the occasional stop to kiss one another senseless.