Fic: Let The Light In (The Eagle, AU), Chapter 4

[beederiffic]

Title: Let The Light In, Chapter 4
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5k
Warnings:
Summary: Esca's an acrobat, and he has an idea when he meets someone who used to dance in the show
A/N: Merry belated holiday season! I'll try to get back to a weekly update from now.

With the many uncertainties in Vegas - shifting sands, constantly migrant population and entire salaries won and lost over the course of five free cocktails at the craps table - one thing above all remained solid: Any afternoon spent outside of a rehearsal studio with Noz would involve time spent watching the enthusiastic consumption of shitty fast food, fingers licked, the ends of bones chewed. Esca turned his attention from Noz's impressive inhalation of three chicken thighs in one go once his stomach started lurching, and instead returned to poking at his singularly unappetising sandwich.

“Unh. Unm. Ohh.”

“Try breathing between bites.”

“It's too good. Eat yours.”

Esca pulled another hooked fingerful of shredded lettuce limp with mayo out from between the bun, smearing it off on a paper napkin. Between the fat-soaked bread, the lukewarm mayo and the oil clinging to the chicken's crumb coating, it was like some sort of grease trifle. A most unholy trinity. “I'm not that hungry.”

“You will get fat, now, I think,” Noz paused between thighs, taking a long suck at his drink before waving its straw meaningfully at Esca. “That you are not having to stay so thin, without the work.”

“Doubt it. My gut's about the size of a pea, too many years on a fucking diet. Remember how you'd moan for days if I put on so much as half a pound?” Esca shoved his paper plate away and towards Noz, leaning back in his chair with his root beer, pushing his shades up his nose and closing his eyes. “Have at it. I can't.”

“Huh. Another hangover.”

“Only a small one.”

“Everyone here drinks too much.”

These glasses weren't nearly dark enough. “I've seen you pissed up.”

“To my eternal shame.”

Anyone else, it'd be a joke. With Noz, it was sincere, in a toe-curling sort of way. “Quit yapping and eat up so we can get out of here.”

Noz's eyeline shifted to somewhere over Esca's shoulder before it returned to his chicken. “To go where?”

“Dunno. Could see if Mads is around. Dangle our feet in his pool. You're the one who said he wanted to hang out and I'm buggered if I'm sitting in here watching you stuff your face all afternoon.”

Noz finished off his bucket of chicken and pulled Esca's sandwich towards him. “I will need onion rings first. Double order.” There was a pause, then Noz eyeballed Esca intently. “If you would be so kind.”

“Can't.” Esca settled deeper into his seat. “Napping.”

“Always so lazy. Go. Double order. And another Sprite.” A kick dislodged him from his chair. “No ice.”

“Fuck sake, fatty, alright.”

At least the twenty-three year old behind the counter was cute enough, in a stoned, floppy manner, two inches of grimy underpant visible between the low-hanging belt of his trousers and the too short uniform shirt as he leaned over the fryer, inspecting the progress of Noz's onion rings. Esca settled back against the condiments bar and absent-mindedly sucked at his root beer, spectating over the brim of his shades. Perhaps if he could fuck a few Americans in the next couple of weeks, the whole US thing wouldn't have been a complete waste of time and effort. Before flying out he'd heard that Americans went crazy for a British accent, but unfortunately the majority of Anima's cast was anything but American, so had failed to be halfway as impressed with Esca's accent as he'd been counting on.

The onion rings were done. Captain Underpants roused himself out of boredom and shook the basket up out of the oil, his bum cheeks jiggling as he did so. No bad. Sort of doughy, considering Esca was used to hanging out with worked-out circus performers, but he'd do. He turned, depositing the rings in two cardboard trays which he placed on a tray on the counter, giving Esca as much of a professional smile as minimum wage paid for.

“You're good to go.”

“I ordered another Sprite.” Esca let his voice drop a suggestive octave, shortening his consonants as Britishy as possible. “No ice.”

“Yeah? Oh. Sorry, I guess. Gimme a sec.”

Underpants was either too stoned or too straight, because all the bloodshot eye contact in the world hadn't seemed to have sparked an interest. Pity. Esca slumped back against the bar and jiggled the ice in his empty root beer cup, waiting for it to melt enough to slurp at. Things always moved slow in Vegas on a hot afternoon away from the strip, no matter how cold the air conditioning. Everyone moved at half-pace, like the sun burning down outside was sloughing their will to live away, one layer of skin at a time, regardless how far removed they were from it. Even the bugs outside were hiding from it, waiting to come out at night. The first time Esca had seen a scorpion, a real, honest to fuck scorpion scuttling across his building's step one evening inches from his feet, he'd near enough climbed up the nearest light fixture to get away from it.

“Esca? Hear me out. This is important.”

“You?” Christ, this town was tiny. Wasn't America supposed to be huge? Marcus was standing there between him and the door, blocking his easy exit. “The fuck are you doing here? Nevermind, doesn't matter. The place is yours.”

“Dude, uh, sir?” Underpants was holding out the Sprite towards him. “Your order . . .”

“It's his, over there. I've got better places to be. And you, piss off out my way.”

“No.” Nevada didn't need its dam. It could've simply dropped Marcus into place as he was, jaw jutting outward, arms folded across his chest, stubborn and immovable. “You won't take my calls. You don't answer your door. You ignore my texts, so this was my last chance at giving you the opportunity to not fuck things up more than you already have.”

“Me? I fucked things up? That was you, you prick. I don't have to listen to a word you've got to say, so I'm not planning to. Shift it.”

“Esca, let the man speak. I understand that it is important.”

“Aww, Noz, not you, too.” Now there were two of them, the stern genie and the immovable man mountain standing in his way, Underpants dithering about beside them all like he didn't know who to hand the tray to. “You planned this? Thanks a fucking bundle. And you, nobody needs the onion rings so just fuck off back to your counter, there's a good chap.”

“You're going to sit down, shut your mouth and listen to me, because - ”

“I'll do no such thing. Get your big meaty paws offa me, you clumsy great shite.”

Esca tried to yank his arm out of Marcus's grip, but all the training they'd done had strengthened the long fingers wrapping around his bicep like steel cable, and he found himself implacably pulled back over towards the table, dragging his feet with every step like a small boy going to the dentist.

“Sit.”

“I'm not your fucking dog. Say what you've got to say, and we're done. One minute, that's it.”

“You finished?”

The only outward sign that any of Esca's verbal blows had landed were twin blooms of colour warming Marcus's cheekbones. Otherwise, that mask was in place as he stared down at Esca, both of them standing beside the table where Noz had already started on the onion rings. Esca jammed his shades more firmly up his nose, glad of the added armor.

“Maybe. Well? What've you got to say that's going to convince me you deserve a second more of my time? And don't think you're off the hook, Noz. Didn't realise you were getting so pally with Markie boy. Bloody back stabber.”

“Don't bitch at him. He helped out for your sake.”

Noz had a grace to look slightly guilty when Esca raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Nattie asked me.”

“Huh. Typical.”

“Jesus, Esca, will you just . . .” Marcus seemed on the verge of shaking Esca, a dog with a knotted rope, but instead he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out through his nose before opening them again. “We got the job.”

Now was not the time to be thinking about how padded soft Marcus's lips looked. Sexy bastard. “. . . We what?”

The lips quirked at the corners. “We got it, and we're going to lose it if you keep throwing this infantile shit fit long enough that we don't sign the contract.”

Esca narrowed his eyes at Marcus through his shades. He didn't like to think he was suspicious by nature. Cautious would probably be a better word. He shook Marcus's hands off his arms. “I already said I'm not interested in a finder's fee.”

“I'm not talking about a finder's fee. I've spoken with Rudy. Several times. You got what you wanted, a chance to do the balancing act. Exactly like you wanted.”

“But . . . Mario said . . . and then, you said, like a total fuck, I might add -”

“If you'd given me more than five seconds to react and think about what was involved - ”

“I shouldn't have had to! It should've been instant. That was my act. I made it.”

“Alright, Esca. Enough.”

Marcus shoved him down into a chair, then sat himself before placing one of his hands firmly over Esca's mouth. Full as it was with confusion over whatever the job contract might be, Esca's mind barely managed to rein in the instinct to either bite it or grab at it to hold it in place.

“Let me talk. I'll explain, if you'll stop interrupting me every two seconds. Deal?”

He sighed, then nodded mutely, noting as he did that Marcus's hand smelled clean, and that it was big enough to cover half his face, and that the skin was dry, and that its palm's callouses grated deliciously against his lips as it slid away, and that very many parts of him wanted him to lick it.

“Yes, my initial reaction was not good. I hope that, with time, you'll figure out that I was in an impossible position, but yeah, it wasn't my act to sign with. I'm sorry, and I'd have convinced you of that if you'd given me the chance. But,”

Marcus halted Esca with a pointed look as Esca opened his mouth to offer his opinion.

“I thought we had a deal. Moving on . . . it took me two seconds after you drove off for me to figure out you were right, I don't have a clue what I'm doing with this. I don't have a hope in hell of performing with someone who doesn't know exactly what acrobalance is all about. You do. Which is why I know what this means to you.”

There was a pause, the both of them looking at each other, but Esca managed to be both too wary and too invested in what Marcus was going to say next to think about interrupting it.

“You know what I'm talking about?”

“Don't think so, no. Apart from the bit about you being fuck all without me.”

“If that's what you want to take away from all that, sure.” Marcus leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, tanned hands hanging free, starting to occasionally ghost shapes of what he was talking about. “I get that this is important to you, that it's not just a job. You're different when you're in the pose. You zen out. You know, how there's that sweet spot when we hit it right and I'm not even holding you up, you're hanging there instead, suspended by a thread and we could hold it forever, effortless, perfect balance. It's like, Nattie says you have discordant life force.”

Whoa. Derail. “Nattie says what, now?”

The smile appeared for an eye blink, disarming in its beauty. “She believes she's sensitive to, I don't know, auras. She thinks you lack clarity of spirit, and I tried to explain to her, you're not like that when you're balancing. Everything's clean, pure, everything flows. Hell, the only time you're silent for more than a minute is when I'm lifting you.”

Thank Christ his eyes were hidden. Esca's nose began to burn inside, his eyes smarting, tears beginning to flood his lashes as he blinked them back. Nobody had got that before. Not even Bastien. Particularly not Bastien. He'd started to think he was the only one who could feel it and the only person in the world who ached for it when it wasn't there. He sniffed, disguising his reaction by settling into another position in his chair. “That's very perceptive.”

“Not really. I get now what you meant about the chemistry, the connection, how it moves between the flier and base. I know I'm new to all this, but I'm starting to figure it out. Either way, it comes down to this - I need the job like you have no idea, and can't do it without you. The work's important to you, and I'm all you've got.”

“You must do it, Esca. A man has to work. This man wants to work, and you want to stay. There is no question.” Noz's eyes were big and round with earnestness, as bitter brown as black coffee, lips and moustache shiny with oil.

“Cheers, Noz, love, but I'm capable of deciding all by myself. I'll need to think about it.”

“We're meeting Yessica at the main offices tomorrow, eleven am. If we sign the contract, training and rehearsals start next week after a meeting with Mario. There's no time left. You spent too much of it in a piss at me.”

“I had my reasons.”

“I know.”

There was something about Marcus's tone in those few flat words that suggested he did. Esca had known that some of the rumours about him and Bastien must've followed him from Lumière crew to Lumière crew across the Atlantic, and maybe this was it, proof that the past ten days had been spent with them all gossiping like old women behind his back. Poor Esca McCunoval. Always losing his place to a girl.

“Tomorrow?”

Marcus nodded once, his eyes seeming to bore deep beneath the protection of Esca's shades. “At eleven. You're driving. I should fill you in on the details before we get there.”

-

“I'm a what?”

“A forest sprite, Esca. An imp, playful, curious.”

“I'm an imp? Oh, for the love of . . .”

“A forest one.” Marcus's face gave no sign of how much he had to be enjoying this, leaning sideways towards Esca's chair to echo Mario. “Playful.”

“You knew about this, didn't you? You knew, and you didn't tell me.”

“Payback's a bitch.”

“Come now, boys, you are interrupting my tale. So, as I say, the young girl, Kaimi, she is dreaming on the night on the cusp of a full moon, when the air is heavy with the scent of the flowers and the village has been dancing to celebrate a birth.” So far, so fucking Cirque. Mario might be lauded internationally as some kind of visionary, but his visions were always centered around the same, vaguely ethnicky idiom, all pan pipes, lanterns and tribal drums. Every further outing kept raking in millions from audiences even whiter than Esca. “But tonight, Kaimi's sexuality is awakening in the dreams, and in your scene, you are a forest sprite, playful as the young girl has been, curious as she is becoming.”

“It's a metaphor.”

Esca shot Marcus a shitty look. “I got that, thanks.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“So, you are the sprite, and you are climbing through the deep, dark forest. You discover an old tree, sick and dying, mostly old dead wood, broken branches.”

“Wooden? That'll be Marcus then.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“Boys, boys, pay attention. Yes, this is Marcus. The old tree, which, in Kaimi's dreams, replaces the older man she is coming to love, the butterfly that flies from its branches the handsome young playmate she was taken with in her girlish immaturity. You see?”

“A butterfly? What butterfly?”

Mario huffed as if Esca hadn't been keeping up. “The one that your imp has followed into the forest. Your scene follows a dance of butterfly kites.”

“Okay. Let me get this right - I'm Kaimi's maturing desires, manifested and following a young boy into a forest and then, what, the old tree and me fuck? Very kinky, Maz. Didn't know you had it in you.”

Out the corner of Esca's eye, Marcus's shoulders were definitely quivering.

“Pft, you young men have no wonderment remaining in your soul. It has all been fucked out of you. No. You begin to climb down the tree and play on it, and, as you do, you bring it back to life.” Mario started scribbling on the A3 pad on the desk between them, drawing a stick figure for Marcus cased inside a much larger structure of twisted branches. “You see, here, these pieces will be removable. You caress and tickle at the tree, poke about within it, doing all of your beautiful balancings, and the pieces will lift away by your fairy magics.”

Marcus leaned in towards Esca again, his voice a low mumble. “Also known as Mike on cable twelve.”

“The technicalities will be as you expect. Esca, your imp will reach the heart wood, which will be Marcus himself, painted all in bark, the grain of the wood over his skin, his limbs embedded into the tree itself. He is the spirit of the tree. During your adagio, the remaining branches will begin to come to life, to grow new leaves, as the tree wakes. Each place you caress, new growth will appear. In the end, you and the tree will merge as one within its centre, and an extraordinary unblossoming of leaf and flower will appear around you both in a wonderful, ejaculatory explosion of life. It is only during this night through her emergent sexuality that Kaimi will begin to live, to exist as a creature of nature, one with her environment, the beat of the earth within her womb. It is her womanly blossoming you will perform, and her path towards love.”

“Groovy.” In Anima, Esca'd been a tattooed warrior tackling cruel winds of oppression by somersaulting over Cas onto Noz's shoulders. This wasn't much of a further imaginative leap. “This looks like Marcus will be fixed to the stage.”

“Si. Roots, not legs. Only from the torso up will Marcus have motility.”

“We'll have to change a few positions. Should help with your knee, though.”

“If there's any kind of support around my hips.”

“This can be arranged.” Mario scribbled some more on his drawing, creating ever more fanciful swirls of foliage around the two stick figures embracing within. “Rudy has my notes, we will make the changes in rehearsal. He is concerned for the kiss, though.”

Esca turned to give Marcus another shitty look for keeping secrets, but the heavy brow had come down, Marcus's lips pursed in a moment's confusion before they parted and asked the question hammering at the front of Esca's skull. “Kiss? What kiss? We're kissing?”

“Of course!” Mario thumped the ball of his hand on the desk for emphasis. Not that any was needed. “It is the duende, the heart of the scene, the passion within. Esca will be in a balance, like so. We will have to work you, Marcus, in the weights room, and you will both see that this would have been simpler with one of the smaller girls. But we warned you already!”

“That you did. But this kiss, Maz . . .”

“Marcus will lower you in the adagio, into a kiss. Unusual, eh? Marcus will be strong enough with training, we hope. The music, the drums and the song has been building to this moment, a hypnotic beat but, as you touch lips, it will fall silent, the entire arena held up in your kiss. Then, as the music begins again, Marcus will hold Esca solid as the sprite winds himself around and down into the heart wood for your final merging, when the vines will draw around you both and the blossoming will occur. The new growth will then thrust,”

Mario made some entirely unnecessary, over-vigorous movements with both fisted hands at this point, causing Esca to wince in all sorts of different places. “Thrust upward, up and up, and breech the forest canopy, and the moon's light will shine down in fluid, milky streams on the two of you entwined, as one, as Kaimi's dreaming self is coming to know she wants with another.”

“'Milky streams'? Bloody hell.” So the erotic thing hadn't simply been code for tits.

“That sounds . . . thorough.”

Esca looked over at Marcus, who was already looking back at him, forehead creased with . . . worry? Dread? Whatever it was wasn't terribly flattering.

“Then the fluid beams of moonlight, as the light fades on you, will be beams dancing around each other, carrying Kaimi's completion up into the air, back from her mind and the forest to her body. You see? All after is bliss, until she wakes. You will be the great peak of the dream, the crescendo, the climax.”

“Yeah. Literally.”

“It will be beautiful. You wait, they will roar for you and stamp their feet.”

Mario sat back in his padded desk chair, looking self-satisfied and slightly post-coital as he reached for his e-cig, giving it a deep suck. An awkward silence seemed to be settling over both Marcus and Esca, who shifted in his chair and tried to think of something to say to lighten the atmosphere. He couldn't. All he could think of was, over and over like some self-loathing mantra, was how much he didn't want his first kiss with Marcus to be in a stuffy rehearsal studio with Rudy and Thierry looking on. He could feel his face heating up the more he tried to concentrate on something, anything else. Thinking Marcus fuckable and blowable was one thing. Having a definite preference to how and where their first kiss, therefore implying he hoped there would be more, might take place was another.

“The big kiss. You think we need to practice?”

Marcus made a kissy face at him over the roof of the car. Esca ignored him, dropping into the driver's seat and concentrating on getting the key into the ignition. The car lurched as Marcus climbed in, his thigh coming to rest far too close to Esca's for his liking. His car seemed too small, sweltering although he'd found a tiny bit of shade to park in, and Marcus's bulk seemed to press in at him, taking up what little air there was.

“Move your leg out my way.”

“It's not in your way. Will you relax? Yes, we're going to look crazy stupid, but what did you expect? It's Lumière. I was a dancing ancestral flame in Anima.”

“It's not that.”

“Then, what? We got the contract. Your visa's solid, and we're featured artists in what's going to be the hottest ticket in town. Lighten up. If we extend past six months . . .”

“Every Cirque show has done, so far.”

“We both got what we wanted. That's a good thing, Esca.”

“I know.” Refrigerated air finally began to filter through the air vents, so Esca turned it up high, feeling his face tighten and itch as sweat started to dry across it. “But now we have to make it happen. All of that, everything Mario said. You're underestimating the amount of work involved.”

“Bullshit. Six weeks' rehearsal time is luxury compared to what the corps get.”

“Yeah, for a good reason. That transitory balance, the one with the kiss? Rudy's right to be concerned. Moves like that in acrobalance are normally limited to one person acts, as you only have to struggle against your own balance and the limits of your own strength. If you're lowering me, no matter how much time you spend in the weights room, your arms will start shaking. Think about it - you're bearing my entire weight and having to slowly shift it at a controlled rate. You start shaking, so I start having to correct my pose, which risks throwing the whole thing off.” Esca took a right at the lights. “You'll see, next week. It's going to be a total fucker. You're going to be dropping me on my head like an unwanted baby.”

“So wear a helmet. Where're we going?”

“Fuck. Haven't the foggiest notion. I could double back to Nattie's.”

“I'll walk from your place.”

“Like buggery, you will. It's miles to her place, it'll fuck your leg for next week. It's not like it's that far out of my way.” Marcus didn't say anything in reply. Esca glanced over at him, and the aviators were on, hiding Marcus's eyes, fingers pressed against his mouth as he gazed stonily out the window. “What? Something happened there I should know about?”

“It's nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing. I could drive us over now and find out for myself.”

“If that's your idea of a good time.”

“Now you shut down? What happened to 'lighten up' Marcus?”

“It's not a big deal. Drop me by the Freedom Park Walgreens?”

“Fine.”

Marcus didn't speak for the entire twenty minute drive, so neither did Esca. He pulled up in the car park, waiting for Marcus to get out.

“I'll see you Tuesday, then. Get on the weights over the weekend if you have the chance?”

“Sure.”

The stony gaze continued out the side window, Marcus making no move to leave, in some sort of stupor like he was deep in thought. Esca tried again.

“Any plans for the weekend? I'm unpacking. Already had half my stuff in boxes by the time you and Noz set me up.”

“We cut it pretty close.”

“We did. Sorry about that.”

Marcus seemed to come to, giving Esca a curt nod and faint smile before opening the door and climbing out. Esca thumbed the control to wind the passenger window down. “You want a lift on Tuesday? Might as well.”

“That'd be great, thanks.”

“So, where should I pick you up? Nattie's?”

“Shit, won't you ever let a single thing drop?”

Marcus started laughing, leaning against the car, the only part of him visible his now-flat belly framed perfectly by the car window. Esca unclipped his seatbelt and got out of the car, the blast of midday heat hitting him immediately. It'd probably be hailing hard enough to rattle the windows back home.

“Where am I picking you up?”

“The Stay Suites out by Nellis.” Marcus pushed himself off the car and looked at the ground, rubbing over the back of his neck with one hand, thick bicep pulling at the seam of his shirt sleeve. “It's temporary.”

“That's ridiculous. You've got a contract, a fucking great one. Rent someplace nice.”

“I'll get a place once we start getting paid. I've been living off my uncle, and, I don't know, don't want to ask for more now I'll be able to pay him back. Know what I mean?”

“No. You can't stay in a motel. It'll cost you a fortune.” Esca pulled a face. “Not to mention, gross.”

“Things with Nattie aren't great. I don't want to push it and it's only for a month or so. I told you.” Another one of those easy shrugs. “No biggie.”

“Bollocks. You're staying with me.”

“No. I couldn't. It'd be too much.”

Fuck, yes, it would, and what the fuck had he offered it for? “I won't take no for an answer. We've got to learn to work together better than we have been. Might as well make a start on it and get used to being around each other a bit more. You'll be in your own place once Mahina opens, right?”

Stupid. You total fucking wanker. Stupid, idiotic thing to suggest.

“No. Really. I couldn't impose.”

“Yeah, you could.” Fucking shut it! “Central air. The couch is comfy enough. You could always clean up a bit in return, I'm a proper lazy shite.”

“It wouldn't be weird? It's not like we know each other that well.”

“Don't you think we probably should, if we're going to be snogging in public every night for the next six months?”

He couldn't stop the words coming. Esca knew he'd been lonely since he'd moved out here, the only Brit in a cast who'd already formed cliques in the first six months before the extended run he'd been hired for. Lonely not just for a fuck but for someone to hang out with, to watch shitty tv with. Someone else to buy the loo paper or remember that they needed milk. All the stuff he'd missed since Bastien had moved out, and Marcus was exactly the wrong person to be looking to in order to replace all that. But here he was, practically begging. He'd turned into the worst pathetic, needy, wank-stain of a person. Possibly a new personal low.

“I guess, if you're sure . . .”

Fuck, no. “I am. Get in and we'll go pick up your shit before it gets too infested with bed bugs.”

“Too late.”

Yeah. It very probably was.