Fic: Let The Light In (The Eagle, AU), Chapter 6

[beederiffic]

Title: Let The Light In, Chapter 6
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Rating: NC-17
Length: 4.7k
Warnings: Recreational drug use
Summary: Esca's an acrobat, and he has an idea when he meets someone who used to dance in the show.

The door was pushed shut. The guy went to bed. The wind blew the door open. The guy got out of bed and slammed the door shut, which made it bounce back into his face. He shook a fist at the door and closed it again, making a big show of latching it. Lay down, pulled the covers up. The wind blew the door open again, then the guy tripped over the rug getting out of bed to close it. High-fucking-larious.

“Have I told you how much I hate clowns?”

“Yes, you have.”

Marcus was sitting next to Esca on the mats, bad leg stretched out where all the rest of them were hunched up watching one of the clowns work through his big set piece. Esca leaned into Marcus again, nudging him with his shoulder.

“But they are a huge pile of shite, aren't they? It's not just me.”

“It's not just you.”

“Tourists love 'em.”

“Tourists are mostly drunk.”

Marcus elbowed Esca, nodding over to where Thierry was glaring at them for talking too loud, not concentrating, for not play-acting at being part of the loving Mahina family. Esca ignored it, tucking in closer to Marcus, who was deliciously sweat-damp and mussed. “Frosh told me Didi gets paid per show.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I could be a clown. I can fall on my ass just as good as the next guy.”

“No, Marcus. I'm afraid you're the very last person who could be a clown. Sorry.”

They watched Yegor battle with his comedy door for a few more seconds. Then Marcus looked at Esca over his shoulder, forgetting to keep quiet. “I could so be a clown.”

“Shush. You're too handsome, for a start.”

“Frosh is okay-looking.”

“Frosh is a wet dream on toast, but he's got a way about him, the way he moves.”

“I'm a trained dancer. I can move any way I need to.”

“You're the only person I can think of who'd get offended over not being a natural clown. Let it go.”

A pause, as Yegor started to attack the door with a big rubber axe. Then Marcus huffed, “I don't get why -”

“Didi might be a misery guts, but he's a barely-functional alcoholic so knows more about falling over than you or I ever will.” Another black look from Thierry made Esca drop into a hiss. “Yegor's got that skinny, gawky thing, not to mention the ears. Izzie's well into her second childhood, not that she ever got out of her first, Dain's fat but light as a feather when he skips, and even Frosh positively cherishes any opportunity to look silly, least when he's not on the pull. You're not silly. You're never silly.”

“I can be silly. Dancing ancestral flame?”

“Watch the Youtube footage. You moved like you were interpreting Shakespeare with your feet in front of the Queen. You have a dignity about you, even when prancing about like a ninny in flaming orange tights.”

Yegor had smashed his way through the door, so fell through it into his face. The Peruvians sitting behind them apparently found it highly amusing. Marcus nudged Esca with his shoulder. “Thanks. Hey, you almost said a nice thing. Did you strain yourself? Need to borrow my cold pack?”

“Your mother needs a cold pack.”

“And there we go, he's back in business.”

Yegor got a desultory round of applause and some whoops from the Peruvians, then they all watched Oceane portraying Kaimi's flight from the village, Esca frowning and shifting about to get comfortable, trying to disguise how moving the piece was, how charmed he was. Then it was the dance of butterflies, the corps moving in and out of each other swirling and swooping their long poles without a single tangle. The music was hellish, thumping trippy beats with some sort of close-harmony wailing over the top of it, but the dance itself was pretty and would no doubt be a huge hit with the audience. Esca felt a spurt of liquid acid eating away another layer of colon. They were on next in the first full run-through, and the kiss hadn't been perfected yet. He was already moving through his warm-up stretches, Marcus beside him with his shirt off, flexing each and every impressive muscle through his arms and chest. Consequently, there was barely a woman in the hall left watching the kites.

“We're up.” Marcus held up a hand to acknowledge Thierry's gestured instruction. “Let's do this.”

“Oh, God. Oh, God, God, crapfuck. You're going to drop me.”

“I'm not going to drop you. We got this.”

“I haven't finished. I'll sprain something. I can't.”

“You can. We're going to miss our cue. Shift your ass, MacCunoval.”

He knew he'd be okay once their music came in and he was on. It didn't help. Never did. Esca's legs felt too elastic like they couldn't hold him up, knees knocking, hands shaking. He could barely breathe, wondering if there was still time for him to go throw up in a dustbin. But their sound cue, the beginning heartbeat thump that'd undercut their entire act, started up, Marcus striding confidently into the centre of the taped-out stage area with barely a hint of limp, leaving Esca there with forty pairs of eyes trained on him. Fifty, now the corps had stashed their kites and joined the cast on the mats. Why did he do this? Why the fuck had he ever thought he could be an acrobat? It was all going to go tits up. His hands were so sweaty Marcus would never be able to keep hold. It was going to be a disaster. He'd have to quit. Leave. Fly home in humiliation, reputation in tatters.

The heart beat started to evolve into mesmeric pulsing drums, and Esca stepped over the tape, out of the 'wings', and everything faded away as his concentration came down like a set of blinkers, tunnel vision as he slowly cartwheeled and crawled through what would be trees once they had a proper practice set. The first balance went fine, a few elegant shapes on his hands on an equipment box in place of a tree stump. He was vaguely aware of the mass of humanity sitting there, judging his skill, watching every move, but they didn't matter anymore and the routine flowed over and through him, a stream smoothing out a pebble. He'd barely broken a sweat by the time he reached Marcus, climbing up on a set of stacked crates before finally gripping Marcus's shoulders for their first dual balance.

Strong. Solid. Determined. Stalwart, substantial, enduring. The contact grounded Esca, Marcus steady as a fucking rock beneath him, hands firm, unwavering. Every move rang like a bell, no slips or sudden squawks of annoyance, working together with a unity they'd seldom achieved on their good days. It was sublime and Esca felt himself getting emotional, caught up in this little piece of magic they were creating together. There might've been nobody else there, for all he knew. There was just this, and it was immaculate.

“Steady. Here we go.”

Nobody else would've heard it over the music. It had been said for him alone. He'd dropped into the side split, feeling Marcus shifting his weight down through his legs as he started to lower Esca in the balance, his control stronger than it had been even this morning. Closer now, and Esca could almost feel their audience holding their breath, willing them on, carrying them downward towards each other. He let his body flex, curving his spine, pulling his head backwards in preparation for the kiss, and kept his eyes screwed shut because looking down into Marcus's eyes right now would probably knock him off and down onto his bum.

The hold was shaking now, both of Marcus's hands vibrating, muscles shuddering in effort, the blast of Marcus's breath through his nose hitting Esca now he was so close, no more than an inch, no more than a single centimetre. Then, now, slowly, the slightest touch at first, and Marcus's lips were pressing against his, closed and so soft, his nose tucked in beside Esca's, the heat of his face pressing into Esca's cheek. Esca choked back a sob, caught up in the moment, and Marcus's hands squeezed his so briefly Esca wondered if he'd imagined it.

But he had to move away into the off-centre balances that put most of the work onto him, pulling away from Marcus's mouth to twist around. He continued to nuzzle at Marcus's face, rubbing at him like a cat, curling his entire frame first around Marcus's face and shoulders, then down, into the circle of those arms, clinging, merging. By the end of it Esca was soaked, muscles woolly. Marcus held him up. Then surprised the fuck out of him by dipping his head to kiss Esca again, something that was absolutely not in the script.

He felt himself go rigid with shock tight against Marcus, whose mouth remained closed, brushing over Esca's lips once before settling there. He must've shaved this morning in prep for the run-through, no stubble yet to mar the plump, cushioned caress of his mouth, his touch light. It was tender, almost gentlemanly. Esca promptly dissolved into it, thanking the wisdom of whoever'd made his dance belt so soundly padded.

Some people started clapping. Distant cheering. A couple of wolf whistles as the music ended and Marcus drew away from Esca, who was as dazed as he'd been after three solid hours of caning Mads' weed, the shape of Marcus's cock imprinted on his stomach. It had been so much of a nothing kiss. The way he'd kissed his mates after a night in the pub had more heat to it. But it had been beguiling. Sweet and lasting, its aftereffects playing joyfully around his lungs. A kiss like that shouldn't have had him feeling like he floated back to the crash mats, toes a foot off the floor. If Marcus was that deadly with his lips, he'd have destroyed Esca if any tongue had been involved.

“Alright, chaps? What's happening?”

Esca was returning from sitting outside with the smokers after the run-through and notes were complete. He'd barely been able to concentrate as it was over the second half, Marcus sitting next to him as before but they hadn't spoken much at all. No jokes, no secret nudges. Rudy and Thierry both seemed pleased with their progress. Marcus had grinned at him afterwards, slapping him on the back like they were bestest buds. Now Esca felt hungover, and a nagging headache was pressing in at his temples, and he'd walked back into the cool and dark of the rehearsal hall to see Marcus dimpling down at the two tissu ribbon dancers, who'd taken over from the guys Mario had originally contracted. Visa issues, Esca had heard. By the grace of God . . .

“We're explaining to Marcus that he'll turn into circus people if he hangs out with us much longer.”

Bethany. Marcus would probably go for someone like her. Similar to Nattie, all petite, a perfect smile, huge wide-set eyes, precious with no make-up on and her hair scraped back with a headband that might once've been white. She was hanging onto one of Marcus's arms, playing with his hand, and Marcus didn't look like he minded a bit.

“Circus people? Him? Nah. Never going to happen.”

Marcus's dimples dug deeper as he smiled down at first Bethany, then at Alis, the sinewy athletic redhead who looked like she could crack rocks with her inner thighs. Maybe he went for that. “Esca was explaining to me earlier that I don't have what it takes for clowning.”

“You?” Alis reached up to brush a non-existent stray lock of hair off Marcus's forehead. “He's right. You're way too cute.”

“It's a cross I have to bear.”

They both laughed and clutched at Marcus like it was the funniest thing they'd heard in years. With a possessiveness Esca knew he had no right to, he pushed himself between Bethany and Marcus, using the excuse of reaching for his water bottle in the bag at Marcus's feet.

“It's not that. Look at them.” He nodded in the direction of one side of the hall, where the corps were piously cooling down at the barre, gossiping quietly between themselves, nibbling at cucumber sticks they'd all brought along from home in ziplock bags.

“And at us.” The other side, where the circus performers were gathered in their various troops, stuffing themselves with fish tacos from the stand on the corner and washing them down with sweet black coffee, sucking their fingers clean and belching like it was a competition, laughing too loud. “I have a cucumber in my fridge at home right now. I didn't buy it, and certainly wouldn't use it for eating.”

That had put a damper on things. Marcus looked slightly miffed, the dimples disappearing. But Alis wound her arm into Esca's, giving him a side-hug. “Give him time. It won't take us too long to turn him.”

“Marcus the incorruptible?” Esca snorted. “Good luck with that.”

The miffed expression had turned into irritation. Marcus gave Alis and Bethany a tight smile, reaching out to tug at Esca's elbow. “Good to get to know you guys better, but I have to talk to Esca. If you'll excuse us.”

He was marched all of five metres away before Marcus spun him back around to face him. “Is there a problem? Notes went great. I thought you'd be relieved. Happy, even.”

“No. No problem.”

Esca shrugged, sulky as a school boy. Marcus ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end, looking around the hall in frustration. “I swear to God, your mood swings.”

“Excuse me? I do not have mood swings.”

“Yeah, Esca, you do. All the way from sarcasm through to surly.”

“It's called being British.”

“Bullshit. It's more than that. You act like you're always pissed at me, then invite me to crash, tell me I'm not the problem . . . I've done everything I can and you're still mad at me for some unknown reason. If I'm not the bug up your ass, would you mind telling me what is?”

Esca had never taken well to criticism. He could feel his colour rising, his eyebrows coming down. Shit about to be lost. “I told you, there's no problem. You're imagining it.”

“That was rude back there. Mind your goddamn manners in the future, and don't pin this on me.” Marcus shouldered his bag. “I'll find my own way back. Don't wait up.”

“Come on. Don't be such a drama queen. Marcus? You're being ridiculous.”

The limp was more pronounced, sore after a day's work and too long sitting still, but the set of Marcus's shoulders was grimly resolute as he made his way back over to the girls, who greeted him like a long-lost friend. Esca stood there alone, knowing he could follow Marcus over and simply join in the conversation as if nothing had happened. He'd braved worse. He looked down at his feet in their slippers, and they weren't moving to take him over there in any hurry.

Maybe it was just as well Marcus was annoyed with him. The draw towards Marcus was starting to be a problem, especially after that last kiss. Anything that created some distance had to be a good thing. Had to be.

Your right. Sorry. Will stick around ten mins in case u change your mind n need lift

He tucked his phone back into his bag, and watched Marcus lift his out, swiping over the screen with a thumb and reading Esca's text before closing it and returning to his conversation with the girls, not looking Esca's way.

-

“You finished being in a piss at me?”

The buzzer sounding had almost given him a heart attack. Esca fell asleep on the sofa after a couple of drags on an afternoon spliff and had woken in the dark, gasping out the remaining horrors of a vanishing nightmare, the buzzer pressed twice more before he finally made it out to the door. Marcus was standing there, leaning against the door frame, face blank and unreadable.

“Can I come in?”

“I don't know. Can you?” This was perhaps not the best time to start parroting his mother's grammar reminders. “But, yes, you may.”

Esca stepped back, leading the way through to the apartment, the small of his back itching with tension. Marcus stopped just inside the door, dropping his bag at his feet. “Am I okay to crash? I can leave, if you want.”

“No, sofa's yours, if you can bring yourself to sleep under the same roof as me.”

A sigh, a pursing of lips. “I'm sorry.”

“For what? Chucking your toys out your pram or ignoring my text?”

Marcus's mouth moved, echoing Esca's words, brows drawing together, “Chucking my what? The hell does that mean?”

Esca sat back down into the couch, shuffling his bum forward, sticking his feet up on the coffee table. His back firmly pointed in Marcus's direction. “The Miss Manners lesson you chose to give me in the middle of a crowded rehearsal hall.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I guess I could've timed it better.”

“Got it in one. Although,” Esca let his head fall back, closing his eyes. “You did have a point. A small one. We did good, and then I reacted badly. To stuff.”

The sofa lurched as Marcus joined him on it, and Esca watched as Marcus placed a fresh water bottle, two green apples, a bag of almonds and a plastic deli container of chicken pasta salad on the coffee table. Pasta, not quinoa? When Esca was stressed, he'd hit the vodka. Looked like Marcus's go-to might be refined carbs.

“I guess I don't know what that stuff is, and you don't share it with me. Which is fine, you got your own thing going on, and I respect that. It's just . . .”

“. . . That sometimes I'm a miserable cunt, and you don't know how to deal with that. Yeah. I get that more than you might imagine.”

“No, I can see that.”

Marcus unclipped the little plastic fork from the top of the deli container, flipping open the container's lid and starting to dig through the pasta. Esca watched, a garlicky vinaigrette scent hitting his nose, and his spit glands started working a second before his stomach gave a terrific gurgle.

“Jesus. 'Scuse me. Forgot to eat.”

“You want some?” Marcus lifted up the bowl his way, like he was about to start spoon-feeding Esca.

“Thanks, but balls to salad.” Esca dug his phone out of his jeans, bringing up a browser. “I'm ordering pizza.”

“At one a.m.”

“Is it? Well. Apparently that's exactly what I'm doing. You like pepperoni? Extra cheese?”

Marcus cursed under his breath, then tossed the container down on the table. “I love pepperoni with extra cheese, and I'll get heartburn tomorrow right when I'm lifting you, then my energy'll drop around two in the afternoon, which is probably when I'll tell Thierry exactly where he can stick his 'tonal posture alignment'.”

“Awesome. Two extra-large it is. Stuffed crust?”

“You're a bad influence.”

“Oh, God. I hope so.” Esca returned Marcus's smile. “In that vein, want to catch up on Duck Dynasty till it gets here? You could still have your pasta as an hors d'oeuvres. Bases are allowed to get fat. Just look at Noz.”

Marcus's feet joined Esca's on the coffee table, nudging the apples out the way as he handed Esca the TV remote and started to uncap his water. “Ah, yes. Your friend Noz. Who is now dating Nattie.”

“Bugger off, he is.”

“It's what I heard.”

“Glory be. He's been trying long enough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Esca couldn't help himself, needing to watch the play of muscle across Marcus's shoulders as he dropped his legs and sat forward to grab the bag of almonds. “Does it bother you?”

“Hmm? What, Nattie dating?” Marcus shook his head, and ripped the bag open with his teeth before offering the almonds to Esca. “No. She supported me long enough. It's about time she got back out there.”

“Ta. But you, and her, you're really not . . . ?”

“No.”

“But you were living together.”

“I was crashing on her couch, same as here. Mostly.” Marcus shrugged and shook a handful of nuts into his palm. “That's it.”

It was one a.m. Esca hadn't thought about where Marcus had been all night, not until then, as he'd napped away most of the evening. But sitting forward like that, and then with the shrug, the neck of Marcus's t-shirt pulled downwards. Esca's lungs froze in his chest. There was a hickey there. One small, faint bruise at the base of Marcus's throat. One that could only have been put there if Marcus's had been bare-chested.

“Right.” He couldn't take his eyes off it. Bethany, probably. Maybe Alis. Both of them? Where there any more?

“Nattie's a great person.” Crunch crunch crunch. Swallow. Water. Swallow. ”I wish I could repay her for everything she's done for me. The least I can do is wish her the best.”

“Then why did you leave? If you're such bestie mates.” It was definitely a hickey. It was playing hide and seek with him as Marcus shifted back and forth from his water.

“Stupid fight.”

“Over what? If you don't mind me asking.”

“You really want to know?”

“Sure.”

“It was over you.” Marcus sat back again, looking down at Esca across the sofa, hickey hidden from sight. “She knew how important it was I found work, and thought I was crazy to say no to Mario unless you were in the act.”

Esca blinked. That was something he hadn't known. “You said no?”

“Right after you drove off. I couldn't do this without you, Esca. That's what I told them.”

“You never did.”

It was stunning the way Marcus's eyes lit up when he smiled those small, private smiles of his. Stunning like a smack around the head. “Sure. Wouldn't have been fair otherwise. Plus I'd have screwed up and lost the contract, so I didn't have much of a choice.”

“That's true.”

And now, a laugh, and, fuck, he was so beautiful when he laughed. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“Any time.”

Esca couldn't stop thinking about the hickey. Probably shouldn't say anything, but the thought of it kept winding itself around Esca's mind, whispering into his ear. “So where d'you go?”

Marcus worked on another mouthful of almonds before swallowing. “When?”

“After the run-through.”

“Y'know. Hung out.”

“Till one in the morning?”

“Jeez. Sorry I broke curfew, mom.”

“Just asking.”

They both stared at the TV. Esca could feel the sense of Marcus's physicality all up along his side, only a couple of feet away. If he'd had any hint that Marcus might have the slightest desire . . . he'd reach out, lean over to press his mouth against the hickey, covering it with one of his own. Ruining everything.

“I only asked because you've got a little something on your neck there.”

“What?” Marcus started to touch his neck, patting it with his fingers. “Where?”

Esca pulled his collar aside and demonstrated on himself. “There. Bethany or Alis's work?”

“Oh. It was just a . . . Bethany.”

Fury. His ears started ringing, all the air in the room pressing down at Esca's head. “Great. Fast work.”

“It was only, y'know, whatever.”

A tight band had wound itself around his chest. He could barely force the words out. “Very nice. I'm assuming?”

“Yeah.” Marcus moved again, putting his legs on the floor and sliding his arse forward to the edge of the couch. The back of his neck was flushed beneath the tan, the tips of his ears tinged with red. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn't a big deal, won't happen again, and it's none of your business. I'm not that guy.”

“No.” The buzzer rang. Pizza. Esca pushed himself up, appetite gone. “I know you're not.”

A few weeks back, Esca would've have flirted with the delivery guy, maybe even asked when his shift was over. Instead he grabbed the boxes and handed over the tip with barely a glance at the guy's face, shutting the door and leaning back against it. Boxes warm in his hands. This shouldn't matter. He'd have to make it not matter.

Marcus was in the kitchen when Esca came back through, his bum poking out perfectly gropeable as he placed the pasta salad into the fridge. “Beer to go with the pizza?”

“No, thanks. I'm knackered all of a sudden. Think I'll hit the hay.” Esca put the pizza boxes down on the counter. “You go for it, though. Leave me a slice for breakfast.”

“You're sure you're tired?” Marcus straightened up, closing the fridge. “That's awesome. I seriously need to get some sleep.”

Esca punched Marcus lightly on the bicep.“I bet you do, tiger.”

“Esca . . .”

“Okay, okay, I'm leaving it alone.”

“Thanks.”

It was so quiet in there, only the humming of the fridge and the air. Marcus must've turned the TV off. Esca looked at his feet, unsure of why they weren't walking him over to the bedroom, and then Marcus's fingers touched his arm, his bare skin where he rolled his cuffs up.

“We did good today.”

He couldn't look at Marcus. He was too frazzled by the kiss that afternoon, and all this closeness, the mere fact of sharing space with someone who ticked every box except the most important one. “We did, yes. You did. Well done, and I'm not talking about Bethany.”

Marcus's fingertips brushed over Esca's sparse arm hairs, then smoothed up his arm, over his shirt sleeve and shoulder, up to tweak his collar into place. “Gotta do it all over again tomorrow.”

“And the next day, and the one after that, so on and so forth.”

He looked up, which was a huge mistake. Marcus was standing too close, simply looking at him, studying Esca's face. His mouth, Marcus's eyes dropping below Esca's eyeline to somewhere around his mouth area. Esca held his breath, unable to look away or move or to complete even the simplest act of self-preservation. Then Marcus touched Esca's neck, skin to skin, his warm fingers giving Esca's upper shoulder a squeeze.

“Get to bed. Imps need their sleep, and so do trees.”

It broke the spell and Esca heaved in a breath, moving out of the way of Marcus's grip, the flesh along his neck and jaw feeling twitchy. “Trees need sleep? Is that right?”

“In magical forests, yes, they do.”

It took him forever to drop off. However Esca positioned himself, or punched at the pillow, or lay curled up or flat on his back and willed himself to fall asleep, the memory of Marcus's hand on his neck burned there, keeping him from passing out. That and the thought that maybe the second kiss was a permanent part of the act now, as it fit with the scene. How many times would they go through it, before it became a nightly fixture once the show opened?

He reached up and covered the patch of skin with his hand. If one casual gesture of friendship screwed him into knots this tight, it only confirmed that he was entirely right, and that nothing could happen between him and Marcus. It was too intense, way too risky. Not even if there'd ever been a chance of it.