Fic: Against The Grain - part two

[lemondilemma]

Title: Against the Grain

Author: Lemondilemma

Artist: Ladytiferet

Pairing: Marcus

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: violence, implied major character death, minor character deaths

Word Count: 34,353

Author’s notes: Heartfelt thanks to the awesome Ladytiferet for the artwork and beta services.





“You on your own?” Guern asked as Marcus loped into his office.

“Yeah.” Marcus opened the little fridge and took out a coke, his mouth dry after the run-in with MacCunoval and the Seals. “Thought I’d drop in before I head up to the lock-up.”

“You know,” Guern grumbled, “nobody else would get away with swanning in here and raiding my fridge.”

“But I’m special, right?”

“Special’s one word for it. Did you want something? Apart from a free coke?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Not about MacCunoval. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone about that yet, not even Guern but he wanted to sound him out about getting free of the gang. Marcus hesitated, focusing on sounds from elsewhere in the building of laughter and the rhythmic thud of boxing gloves hitting punch-bags. He stared at the coke can, not really sure how to start but he knew Guern was really the only person he could talk to so he had to start somewhere or keep it to himself. “I’ve been thinking about getting out for a while, getting away from the gangs. And this thing with the Seals, I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“You’re not alone there.”

“I just don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not always easy to get out once you’re in, but it can be done,” Guern said. “I joined the Romans because in those days, it was what the boys around here did. There was nothing else to do and if you said no, you regretted it. The Brigantes were already on the way out but they still packed a punch and without the Romans to protect you, you were a sitting duck.”

“But then you wanted out.”

“I’m not proud of a lot of the things I did back in the day. Eventually I wanted a quieter life, just like you probably do so I made the break.” Guern smiled warmly. “Got a wife, kids, the gym. I was lucky. I had help.”

“I just want to get away from here, start over again somewhere new. There’s too many bad memories here.”

“You still think about your dad?”

“Of course I do.” An image of his dad flashed before Marcus’ eyes; the last time he saw him as he’d smiled and ruffled his hair, telling him to be a good boy for his mum. “Do you? You knew him.”

“Your mum too. They were devoted to each other and they loved you.” Guern reached over and ruffled Marcus’ hair the same way his dad had done, chuckling. “You were a really cute kid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus grinned at him and swatted his hand away.

“Shame you had to grow up. Seriously though, your dad was a good man. I miss him. He should never have gone north that day and for the life of me, I don’t know why he did.”

They were quiet for a moment, both of them remembering a man long gone. “I think it’s the right time to get out,” Marcus said softly. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. I always thought I’d be with the Romans for life but now I just feel as if everything I do is going against the grain. It feels……wrong.”

Guern nodded then tipped his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “That’s not all though, hmm? The gang and the Seals?”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve seen it all before, been around the block a few times. I know that look. Somebody’s got you all hot under the collar.”

Marcus grimaced and stared at his feet, shuffling them in embarrassment. He shrugged his shoulders, thinking about Esca MacCunoval. “What can I say. There might be a person of interest.”

“Spill the beans. You look as if you’re about to explode if you don’t tell someone.”

“I’m not telling you anything. You, or anybody else.”

“I knew it,” Guern teased. “Young love.”

“It’s not love, just mild infatuation. It’s not like I’m making great plans for the future.” Marcus’ phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked it to see a message from Placidus. Where are you? He sighed and reluctantly headed for the door. “I’d better go.”

“Hey!” Guern called after him. “Any of your boys good with cars?”

“I know a mechanic.” He smiled as he thought about the mechanic he knew. “What’s up?”

“Leaking radiator I think. I need to get it sorted but I don’t have time right now to do it myself.”

The words tumbled out before Marcus could think about what he was saying. “Give me the keys and I’ll take it for you tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Have I ever let you down?” Guern looked a little suspicious but he tossed him the keys anyway and Marcus caught them. “Consider it done. I’ll let you know what he says.”



There was no sign of MacCunoval at Eagle Autos when Marcus pulled up in Guern’s car but a tall, middle-aged man was tinkering under the bonnet of an ancient Citroen.

“Hi.”

The man looked up and nodded his head in greeting. The name on his overalls read Sutcliff. “Alright son. What can we do for you?”

“Is, eh, is Esca MacCunoval here?”

“Should be out back, on his break. You a mate of his?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Marcus lied. “I need someone to take a look at my car, wondered if Esca could do it.”

“No mate’s rates. Any work that gets done, you still pay full price. I’m not running a charity.”

Marcus nodded and looked around nervously. “That’s fine.”

Sutcliff whistled loudly, repeating it twice more before Marcus heard a door open and shut and MacCunoval appeared, overalls tied around his waist, wearing a grubby white t-shirt that revealed some pretty serious muscles in his arms. Marcus tried not to stare and failed miserably.

“Help your mate out with his car,” Sutcliff said, already back tinkering with the Citroen. “I’ve already told him, no mate’s rates.”

MacCunoval glowered at them both before giving his full unfriendly attention to Marcus. “What the fuck do you want now?” he asked.

“Car needs fixing.”

“I’m not fixing your car.”

“It’s not my car,” Marcus pointed out, hoping maybe it would make a difference. “It’s Guern’s.”

“Tell him to bring it in himself.” The glare intensified.

“He’s busy. I’m doing him a favour.”

“Then go someplace else. I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Jesus, Esca!” Sutcliff hurled a rolled-up newspaper at MacCunoval’s head. “No arguing with the customers or you’ll be out on your ear, understand?” MacCunoval - Esca, whatever - opened his mouth as if he was going to make a stand but the other man cut him off. “I’m trying to run a business here. Take your mate’s details and have a look at the car, see what’s wrong with it.”

His tone made it clear there was no room for argument. MacCunoval swore under his breath and trudged outside to Guern’s car, peering in the windows suspiciously, looking for the trap that he expected Marcus had set for him. “So why are you here?” he asked. “I’m assuming you’re not going to start anything serious in front of these guys if you’re on your own.” He indicated two burly mechanics who had emerged from the back of the garage and were now starting to fit a new exhaust pipe to a car up on the lift. “What have you got planned? Salt in my tea? Itching powder down my overalls? Are you going to pull scary faces at me until I start crying? What?”

“I just brought in the car to be repaired.” Marcus held out his hand, mentally reminding himself what the whole point of this was before he just gave up and walked out. “I’m Marcus.”

“I know who you are.”

“Yeah but we’ve never been officially introduced.” God, this was hard work. “It’s Esca, right?”

“Perfect gentleman, aren’t you.” Esca continued to ignore his extended hand so Marcus withdrew it.

“Just because we belong to different gangs doesn’t mean we can’t say hello when nobody else is around.”

“I think you’ll find it does. Anyway, you wankers are more a club than a gang, with your so-called leader and his dad’s money. And what’s with that scar thing?” He pushed Marcus’ head back to make a show of looking under his chin and, as much as Marcus liked the idea of having the guy touch him, he still jerked his head away in annoyance. “Could you pussies not think of anything better?”

“You’re calling us pussies?” Marcus snapped, automatically on the defensive. “When was the last time the Brigantes actually got the better of us and won a fight? We kick your arses and you run off!”

Esca continued to scowl at him, arms folded across his chest and Marcus wanted to punch himself in the face. All this effort to meet him face to face, risking god knows what if his motives had been found out by any of the other Romans or if he’d misread the cautious interest in Esca’s eyes and walked into a Brigantes ambush, and he could’ve blown it all by flying off the handle. He glanced across at Esca who was still frowning, his mouth set in a sulky pout. Hopefully the guy was just pushing his buttons; trying to sound him out, to see if he was for real. Marcus took a deep breath and tried again. “Last time I saw you, you said you owed me one,” he pointed out, trying to put a smile into his voice and giving Esca his best winning look.

“You can put that down to temporary insanity.” Esca appeared to think it over then gave an overly dramatic sigh and stood in front of the car. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Open her up.”

Marcus opened the driver’s door and pulled the lever so Esca could lift the bonnet and take a look inside.

“Are you ok?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. “From the other day, I mean.”

“Just a few bruises, not that it’s any of your business.” Esca poked around for a while then leaned further in and Marcus couldn’t help but smile and stare as the overalls stretched tight across his arse.

“I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

Esca turned his head to look up at Marcus and caught him staring but Marcus could have sworn the semi-permanent frown eased for a second before it was back with bells on. “Like watching other people work, do you?” He stood up, dropped the car bonnet and wiped his hands on a rag. “£50,” he said curtly. “Won’t take long, it’s just the radiator hose that’s leaking and we’ve probably got the part in stock. Leave the car with me and pick it up tomorrow.” He held out his hand for the keys, snatched them and walked off, leaving Marcus standing outside on the pavement and seriously wondering whether all this was worth the hassle.



When Marcus picked the car up just before the garage closed the next day, he didn’t receive a welcome that was much warmer than the one he’d received the day before. If the restless and exhausting night he’d just had told him anything though, it was that for some reason the open hostility just piqued his interest even more. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t been hit in the head once too often and his brain was slowly turning to mush.

“We’re even.” Esca took the cash Marcus had picked up from the gym and handed him the keys with a hastily written receipt. He had a smudge of grease on the side of his nose which Marcus tried not to stare at.

“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate you doing this.” Esca looked distracted, not in the mood for passing the time of day and Marcus had to think of something fast to keep his attention and get a reaction otherwise he was back to square one. He ruefully dismissed kissing Esca or pinning him against the car and going down on him. “Why did the scarecrow get promoted?” he blurted out, trying to keep his voice steady as his brain tortured him with pornographic images of going down on Esca.

“What?”

“It’s a joke. Why did the scarecrow get promoted?”

Esca appeared genuinely confused. “What?” he repeated, obviously forgetting that joke etiquette stated he was supposed to ask with unbridled enthusiasm “I don’t know. Why did the scarecrow get promoted?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field.” Marcus knew that he was clutching at straws and making himself look like a fool but he couldn’t stop. “Out, standing in his field. Outstanding.” Esca continued to stare at him then shifted his gaze to look somewhere behind Marcus. Marcus turned around but there was nothing there he could see worth looking at. “What is it?”

“I could swear I just saw some tumbleweed roll past.” He looked back at Marcus. “Jokes? Really? Do I look four years old to you?”

“You act four years old sometimes.”

“You’re not funny. And anyway, since when does someone tell a joke and then immediately try to explain it?”

“You didn’t laugh. I thought you didn’t get it.”

“It’s not the joke I don’t get. It’s you.”

Undeterred, Marcus carried on. “Did you hear the one about the magic tractor? It drove down the lane and turned into a field. Think about it.”

Esca’s mouth fell open but he didn’t say anything, just gaped at the moron standing in front of him. Then he shook his head and walked away but Marcus was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of a smile.

It was better than nothing.



Marcus dropped off the car to a grateful Guern and checked his phone, pretty sure he knew who’d been calling and texting him all afternoon. Right enough, it was mostly Placidus asking where the hell he was and a couple of texts from Drusillus telling him he was needed at the lock-up. What he really wanted to do was go home, have a couple of beers and wank until he was cross-eyed, while he thought about Esca in his oily mechanic overalls. Instead Marcus made his way to the lock-up, remembering for the first time in a while to stay aware of his environment and watch for trouble, reminding himself that he’d been taking too many risks recently.

The lock-up was pretty full when he got there, guys milling around, a pile of easily concealed weapons stacked on a crate by the door.

“Well, look who it is.” Placidus glared at him. It seemed like everybody wanted to glare at him these days. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to hang out with us? You’ve got responsibilities, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve also got a job,” Marcus pointed out.

“Yeah?” Placidus got in his face, sneering as if having a job was as much of a disgrace as admitting to wearing women’s underwear. “Well quit your fucking job and get your priorities right! While you were busy doing your bit for the economy, the Seals have carried on coming down here and rubbing our noses in it. They beat the shit out of Hilarion and landed him in the hospital.”

“Shit.” As much as he wanted out, Marcus felt angry with himself for having spent so much time hanging around Esca like a horny schoolboy while his friends were in trouble. “When?”

“This morning, in broad daylight! Don’t you bother answering your phone any more?”

“I told you, I was busy. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve been out looking for them but they’re like ghosts.” Placidus ignored the apology and got straight down to business. “They pop up all over the place then just disappear. Drusillus and Lutorius are out looking for them right now and if they see them, they’ll text and we’ll be ready to go and show those freaks what they’re up against.”

Less than an hour later, after a text from Drusillus had advised where the Seals were gathering, Marcus and the other Romans were facing them across another of the endless drab concrete squares that littered this part of the city. They were all aware that a fight this size would bring the police quickly and there were no words of challenge, no attempts to get the enemy to back down; they all knew that the time for posturing was over. This time blood was going to be spilled, and fast.

From across the square, one of the Seals gave a loud whooping cry and that was that. The two sides rushed at each other and came together in a vicious clash of bodies. Knives, clubs, iron bars, baseball bats, fists, feet - every weapon from both sides rained down on an opponent. Within a few minutes there were already bodies littering the ground, some rolling around in pain, others lying still. Marcus could smell the faint coppery scent of blood in the air as he fought, his senses focused now on nothing but fighting. This wasn’t like fighting the Brigantes, game but outnumbered and on the back foot. The Seals were vicious and relentless and Marcus felt something a lot like panic starting to rise in his throat at the onslaught. He swallowed it down and grabbed a Seal, stunning him with a well-aimed head-butt. Marcus whipped his head around to try and see what was going on around him but a sudden agonising pain in his knee stopped him. He dropped onto his other knee and another wave of pain hit him as something solid slammed across his shoulders. Unable to get back on his feet and begin defending himself, he saw a knife discarded on the ground within reach and he grabbed it, swinging around to drive it hard into the leg of the Seal who had attacked him. The Seal opened his mouth and screamed but Marcus hardly heard it amidst the racket going on around him. Clutching at his thigh, the wounded Seal stumbled forward against Marcus, knocking him flat. Two or three other guys, intent on fighting each other, tripped over them and landed heavily on top of them, still grappling and trading blows. Marcus tried to push his way out of the pile but he could hardly move until he felt the weight on top of him lessen and he was being dragged up onto his feet. He saw Drusillus, blood streaming down his face but there was no time to ask if he was ok. If he was upright and still fighting then he was ok.

His knee held as he put weight on it and, realising he was still holding the knife, Marcus thrust his arm out as hard as he could, catching another Seal in the side and causing him to double over with an audible and painful “oomph”, the knife still sticking out of him as Marcus let go of it. Another one came at him, howling like a lunatic but he was taken out by Lutorius and Marcus had a chance to catch his breath and get his bearings. His knee throbbed and his foot felt almost numb but he managed to stay upright, throwing punches and kicking a few Mohican-adorned heads.

Once again the faint howl of sirens abruptly halted the chaos, Seals and Romans breaking apart and regrouping, dragging their injured with them, still hurling insults, bottles and anything else they could find at each other. As the sirens grew louder and the two sides still faced each other defiantly, Marcus recognised a couple of the Seals who had attacked Esca beside their leader, Liathan. Liathan was staring hard at him, then he straightened out his arm and smiled as he made a gesture of firing a gun at Marcus with his fingers.

Nobody else. Just Marcus.



The lock-up resembled the field hospitals Marcus had seen in photographs at the museum and on various TV documentaries. The Romans had taken a lot of injuries but so had the Seals and both gangs had carried away a good few incapacitated members in the rush to avoid the police. Marcus helped to patch up a couple of the others as best he could with the supplies they had while Placidus did what he did best and phoned his dad to take care of the guys who needed a bit more medical attention.

Satisfied that no-one was about to drop dead, Marcus slowly and painfully pulled off his hoodie and his t-shirt and let Drusillus check him for wounds.

“Nasty looking bruise over a shoulder blade, nothing else,” Drusillus informed him. “Probably a baseball bat or something.”

Marcus stretched, feeling muscles and joints cracking, his face screwed up in discomfort. “Hurts like fuck.” He lowered himself gingerly into his favourite chair and looked down at his knee, relieved that his jeans were bloodied but intact, no tell-tale hole in the material from a knife. A thought flitted across his mind about the Seals he’d knifed but he didn’t spare them much time. If you fought with a gang, potentially serious injury came with the territory and they’d have stabbed him without a thought if they’d had the chance. Marcus carefully rolled up the leg of his jeans to have a closer look at his knee. An angry blue and black bruise had already bloomed across the side of it and down towards his calf, a couple of inches of skin raggedly broken by the impact of whatever had hit him. Another scar to add to all the others. The skin on his knuckles was torn but not badly and he made a fist with each hand then stretched out his fingers, happy that nothing felt too painful.

As he sat back in the chair and let his aching body rest, his thoughts turned to Esca. He wondered how badly Esca had been hurt after the beating he’d got from the Seals. He’d seemed ok at the garage but Marcus suspected there had to be a lot of bruising under the overalls. Was he covered in scars from past fights or was he was nimble enough to avoid letting opponents make too much contact? Marcus had never seen him take a big hit except for the day he’d been ambushed and he closed his eyes and let his imagination take him on a tour of Esca’s body, picturing his skin as unblemished by scars or bruises. His own pains faded as he imagined Esca’s skin under his fingers, warm and smooth but Drusillus’ voice cut into the fantasy.

“What the hell have you got to be so happy about?”

Marcus opened one eye and squinted up at him. “Just glad to be alive.”

“Bollocks! You asked that waitress out yet?”

“I’m eh, still working on it.”

“Jesus, M, have you lost your touch? They’re normally falling over themselves to have a go at you.”

“If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.” And Esca was surely worth doing properly. Marcus focused on the crookedly applied butterfly strips which were holding Drusillus’ eyebrow together as a familiar throb in his crotch threatened to humiliate him. “I’m just taking my time.”

“Don’t take too long or someone else might get in there before you.” Drusillus winked at him and his eyebrow started to bleed again. “Oh fuck.” He reached up and then stared ruefully at his bloody fingers. “Lutorius?” he bellowed. “You’re a fucking crap nurse!”



Two days later, Marcus was back at the café. Two days where his resolve to pursue Esca had only strengthened and his nightly fantasies had become more intense; two days where he’d been plagued by a feeling that someone was tailing him wherever he went. He never saw anyone though, no matter how long he watched and waited, and he wondered whether Esca was getting his own back.

“Hello stranger,” quipped the waitress, already pouring some coffee into a mug for him. “I was beginning to think you’d met with a sticky end.” She winked at him.

“Not yet,” he replied, winking back at her, “but I’m working on it.” She handed him the coffee as he reached into his pocket and counted out some money. “Thanks.”

He’d only just sat down when the door opened and he looked up to see Esca sitting down opposite him, cocking his head to one side and fixing Marcus with a look that spoke of humour, annoyance and everything in between.

“You don’t give up, do you,” he said eventually.

“Not when I want something, no.”

Esca reached across and grabbed Marcus’ coffee, taking a mouthful. “I heard you guys and the Seals had a pretty nasty disagreement,” he added, sliding what was left of the coffee back across the table.

“Probably the first of many.” Marcus felt his knee and everything else that had been hurt in the fight protest at the memory. “They can’t just walk in and think they can take over.”

“What, like you lot did?” A hard edge crept into Esca’s voice but the expression on his face stayed the same. No familiar scowl this time. “What goes around, comes around.”

Marcus looked down at his hands, unwilling to look at Esca as unexpected guilt hit him in the gut. He was right, of course; that was exactly what the Romans had done, moved in from another part of the city and pushed the Brigantes out. Marcus closed his eyes and tried to drown out the voice in his head that was loudly reminding him it was time to break away and start over.

Esca leaned in towards him, seemingly happy that his comment had hit its mark and now wanting to address Marcus’ initial statement. “So what is it that you think you want,” he asked, “or is it a big secret?”

Marcus looked up, a hundred replies running through his head but nothing he could actually form into words that made sense. Esca waited then huffed out a bitter laugh and sat back, the curiosity on his face now replaced by disdain and Marcus watched as he got up, scraping the legs of his chair loudly across the floor.

“Do you like museums?”

“What?” Whatever Esca had been expecting, it obviously hadn’t been that. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his tousled mop of hair.

“Do. You. Like. Museums,” Marcus repeated slowly.

Esca shrugged. “S’pose. When I was a kid.”

“I want to show you around the Museum of Military History.”

“What the fuck for?”

“So I can show you some of the stuff.”

“You don’t know anything about me. What makes you think I’d like it?”

“Well, that was the whole point of me asking whether you like museums. Remember that?”

Esca narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You’re insane. You and me shouldn’t even be talking.” His eyes flicked across Marcus’ face to his mouth and Marcus deliberately licked his lips, something in his chest tightening as Esca’s eyes lingered. “You’re the enemy and we have nothing in common.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than you realise.” Marcus didn’t like talking in riddles but he still had to be careful that his dick wasn’t leading him into a trap, no matter the signals he imagined Esca was giving him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not interested,” he said softly, daring Esca to interpret that statement any way he wanted.

Esca stared hard at him then the angles of his face seemed to soften a little and he glanced around, as if he wanted to make sure nobody else in the café was listening before he answered.

“Ok,” he said, still managing to look suspicious and a little disgusted with himself. When?”



Marcus waited in some degree of anxiety for Esca to turn up, pacing around the museum lobby and thinking up a thousand reasons why this was a ridiculous situation to find himself in and that no doubt, instead of just Esca, the museum would likely be besieged by the Brigantes in full, all of them out to get the lone Roman who’d been stupid enough to advertise where he’d be. Esca was alone when he arrived however, catching Marcus’ eye from the doorway before sauntering over. He looked wary, deliberately keeping more than an arm’s length away from Marcus, his hands stuffed down deep into the pockets of his oversized grey hoodie.

“Hi.” Marcus silently and sarcastically congratulated himself on his conversational skills as Esca merely tilted his chin in greeting. A few visitors to the museum drifted past them, children chattering excitedly at the prospect of seeing big guns and hearing gory tales of battles.

“So,” Esca drawled after a drawn-out, awkward silence between them, “when does the tour start? This better be good, you know. I’ve got better things I could be doing than trailing around some dusty old pile of crap with you.”

“But you came anyway.”

Esca just shrugged and pulled a face, doing his best to appear disinterested. He followed Marcus to the nearest exhibit hall, cautiously looking around.

“Why did you want to come here?” he asked, apparently forgetting that he was trying to look like he didn’t really care. “Do you like all this stuff?”

Marcus smiled at him in an attempt to make the whole thing less like pulling teeth. “Yeah. I work here. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been interested in military history. I wanted to join the army when I was younger but this seemed like the next best thing.”

“How come you never joined up?” Esca crouched down to take a closer look at one of the exhibits but Marcus could see that he was watching him out of the corner of an eye. “They’ll take anyone,” he added, still testing the waters to see how far he could push.

Marcus ignored it and shrugged his shoulders. “Just never happened.” He changed the subject, not wanting to try and explain something he had no explanation for. Misguided loyalty? Fate? His dad’s ghost looming over him? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to think about it. It was like he said; just never happened. “What about you? What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“Train,” Esca mumbled as he stood up straight and wandered off towards a glass cabinet full of medals from the Great War.

Marcus followed him. “You wanted to drive trains?”

“No, I wanted to be a train.” Esca looked up at him as Marcus stifled a laugh. “What! I was a child!” For the first time since he’d arrived, he let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

They wandered from one display to another, Marcus pointing out snippets of information he thought might be interesting and trying hard not to appear too desperate. He wasn’t normally this nervous but everything about Esca put him in a heightened state of awareness. He wanted to know more about him but Esca didn’t say much, just mooched around the exhibits, arching an occasional eyebrow at Marcus in response to his commentary, happy to let Marcus make small-talk.

“There’s a kid that hangs around with you sometimes,” he said, as they pored over a diorama of the Battle of Bosworth Field. “Looks like you. Is he your brother?”

“Do you mean Struan?” Esca asked. “No, not officially anyway. He kind of adopted me cos his family are a waste of space.”

“You really do look alike.”

“Only from a distance.” Esca deliberately picked up one of the models from the diorama in front of a sign which quite clearly read Please Do Not Touch The Exhibits, shooting a mildly defiant look at Marcus.

Marcus ignored it. “Have you got any family?” he asked.

“Nope. You?”

Marcus shook his head. “Just me.”

“Is that why you hang around with that bunch of losers?” Esca dipped his head but looked up at Marcus through his eyelashes, a look that made him resemble a mischievous schoolboy. It was a look nobody could have failed to find irresistible.

“Ok, here’s the deal. You don’t badmouth my guys, I don’t badmouth yours. Deal?”

Esca cocked his head to one side and smiled, his gradual thawing apparently now complete. “Deal.”

They spent another hour wandering around the museum, chatting about nothing in particular, Marcus still playing tour guide and Esca now asking a few questions but only about the items on display, nothing personal. It felt right somehow, being with Esca like this; comfortable, like they’d known each other for years and were used to existing in easy harmony. A couple of times Marcus was caught out looking at Esca instead of the exhibits but he was aware of Esca watching him too, those clear, intelligent eyes less suspicious now and showing more of what Marcus hoped was the same interest he felt. Finally though, despite having gone round less than half the museum, Esca announced that he had to go and they headed back to the entrance hall, lingering by the doors.

“So,” Esca mumbled, shuffling his feet and chewing at one of his fingernails. “I never said thanks for helping me out that day with the Seals.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Esca looked away, apparently uncomfortable about thanking a Roman for anything. He started off down the steps and Marcus followed him, reluctant to lose the chance of a final few minutes in his company.

“I’m glad you came,” he said as they reached street level, his mind frantically trying to think of witty and interesting things to say so that Esca might stay just a little bit longer.

“I almost didn’t. Figured maybe this was all part of some elaborate trap.”

They both turned towards a commotion further down the street where a middle-aged couple were complaining loudly about someone pushing past in their haste to get around the corner. Marcus watched the unfolding scene and frowned.

“What’s up?” Esca asked.

“It’s nothing. I just keep feeling recently like somebody’s been watching me.”

“What, like some creepy stalker’s hanging around the place you work? Imagine that!”

“Point taken,” Marcus agreed, laughing nervously as he steeled himself for what he wanted to say next. “So, do you maybe want to meet up again sometime?”

“What for?”

Marcus shrugged his shoulders and made a non-committal grunt in reply, his internal self unleashing yet another sarcastic, slow hand clap for managing to sweep Esca off his feet with his unrivalled conversational skills.

“Maybe,” Esca said after an awkward silence, staring down at his boots, anywhere but at Marcus.

“We don’t have to.” The slow clapping sound in his head grew louder.

“No, it’s ok. I don’t think you’d have gone to all this trouble if you just wanted to be a jerk.” Esca’s eyes flicked appreciatively over him for a fraction of a second and Marcus had to make a huge effort not to puff out his chest. Esca was definitely checking him out. Definitely. Maybe. “You seem ok.” Ok normal or ok hot, Marcus wanted to ask but he managed to hold the words at bay.

“If I had your number I could call you or text,” he said instead.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Esca thought it over then took out his phone. “And you could give me yours so I know who it is. I don’t want to open a text from you in front of anyone who might want to know what the fuck I’m doing getting a message from a Roman.”

They exchanged numbers, Esca insisting that they gave each other girls’ names as cover, just in case, so Marcus found himself typing in the details of his new friend Murna while Esca announced without a hint of sarcasm that Marcus was now Camilla, winking at him before walking off down the street and leaving Marcus staring after him.

This was all going so much better than he’d expected and for the first time he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps his life really was about to change.



Marcus waited for what he felt was a reasonable amount of time before sending Esca/Murna a text; nothing too much, just a Hi, how’s things? Then he fretted over whether he hadn’t left it long enough. Was a day enough time? He started to wander around his flat, picking things up, putting them down, TV on, TV off until finally he forced himself to sit down on the sofa and take a deep breath. This whole Esca thing had him on edge.

He took out his phone and placed it on the battered wooden coffee table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupped over his nose and mouth. He stared at the phone, willing it to vibrate with an incoming message that wasn’t either Drusillus imparting gory details of the latest girl he’d shagged or Placidus demanding his presence at the lock-up. Nothing happened. The phone lay on the table, mocking him with its silence. Marcus sat back and let out a long, loud sigh then picked up a magazine he’d discarded a couple of days ago. He turned to the article that had caught his attention, the reason he’d kept the magazine; an article about a man who’d quit his job, sold all his belongings and moved his family to a smallholding in a remote part of Wales. Marcus scanned the pictures that accompanied the story; the white-washed cottage with neatly planted vegetable beds, a few chickens being herded by the guy’s laughing kids, the rolling fields and mountains that surrounded the idyllic scenes. Ok, so it was all a bit too idyllic and probably boring as hell but it just reinforced the itch Marcus felt to get out of the city and find a place he could start over. Be happy. Safe.

Marcus closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild but he didn’t get far before his phone finally put him out of his misery and vibrated. It had to be Esca. It had to be.

It was.

Same shit, different day. What you up to?

Nothing much. Want to hang out?

Maybe. Where?

Marcus tapped out two words but hesitated before hitting the send button. He’d seen the way Esca checked him out at the museum and he was pretty sure they were singing from the same song-sheet. My place?

He’d known that it was a risk, that he might scare Esca off by being too full-on and it was an hour before he received a reply. An hour where he struggled not to pick up the phone and call Esca to tell him that there was no sinister motive to the offer, that if he just wanted to come round and have a beer then that was ok. Probably better not add that if he wanted to come round and get naked and fuck like bunnies, then that was ok too.

Ok. Text me your address.

As soon as he’d done it, a cautionary voice in Marcus’ head scolded him for so readily revealing where he lived but it was too late now and he busied himself tidying up. In another hour, he was opening his front door and letting Esca into his home.

“Hi,” he said, taking a quick look out onto the landing to make sure no-one was there, kicking himself for the stupidity of not checking who was at the door before opening it. He needed to focus more on what was happening around him. “You made it.”

“Looks that way.”

“No trouble?”

“Nope. Nobody’s got any reason to be suspicious, stop worrying.” Esca dropped his tatty canvas shoulder bag onto the floor and looked around the tiny flat. “You live on your own?”

“Yep” Marcus spread his arms out. “It’s not much but it’s home.”

Esca seemed quite impressed. “Better than the shit-hole I live in,” he said. “No way I would’ve taken you there.”

Marcus thought of the grim run-down tower block he’d staked out while waiting for a chance to follow Esca. “Probably best if you keep coming here,” he agreed. He caught the way Esca’s eyebrows rose at the presumption they were going to keep meeting. “If you want to, that is. We can hang out without anybody knowing. It’s far enough away from……” Marcus bit his lip to stop himself from talking. This really wasn’t the time to bring up the issue of gang territory. “You hungry?”

“What you got?” Esca quirked a smile at him.

They sat next to each other in comfortable silence like old friends, eating pizza and drinking beer while watching TV. Marcus thought about the time he’d sat there hoping that Esca would turn out to be nothing more than a moronic Brigantes who’d been good for a few fantasies but was easily forgotten, and smiled to himself; turned out Esca was smart and funny and quick-witted and he was already halfway to being hooked. When he went to the fridge to get them both another beer, Marcus rested his forehead against the kitchen wall and took a deep breath, promising himself sternly that he wasn’t going to get too involved. Why the hell did he have to go and start chasing someone at the same time as he decided to start thinking about leaving? His number one priority had to be staying alive long enough to get out of the city. Whatever happened with Esca, he couldn’t afford to forget that. Follow your head over your heart if you want to survive, he remembered his dad saying. Fat lot of good it had done him. Thing was, Marcus wasn’t really sure that his heart had anything to do with this, but his cock sure as hell did.

He took the beers and dropped onto the sofa next to Esca who murmured his thanks but didn’t lift his eyes away from the latest episode of Top Gear. They both reached for the last piece of pizza without looking and ended up grabbing each others hands. Their eyes met briefly, both a little uncomfortable at first then smiling awkwardly.

“Sorry,” Esca said. “Shouldn’t have presumed.”

“No, it’s ok. You have it. My mum would’ve clipped me over the ears for my bad manners if she’d been here.”

Esca picked up the pizza and split it, holding out one of the roughly torn halves to Marcus. “It’s only fair,” he mumbled, stuffing the other half into his mouth.

They both turned back to look at the TV screen but Marcus was acutely aware of how close he was to Esca, every fibre of him wanting to reach out and touch. Just thinking about it made the tingling feeling in his gut bloom into a full-on wave of heat that spread up to his chest and down into his groin, his cock starting to slowly fill. It had been too long since he’d been in this situation with someone he wanted, way too long if this was how he was reacting just by sitting together. Marcus discreetly pushed the heel of his hand into his crotch, hard enough to try and stem the flow of blood. He shifted, trying to put some distance between them without being too obvious but out the corner of his eye he saw Esca’s head turn and look at him for a moment and he hoped that his jeans were baggy enough to hide what was happening.



It was way past midnight when Esca decided to leave and Marcus walked with him down the stairs to the outer door of the building, making a quick scan of the quiet street outside.

“Do you want me to walk part of the way with you?” he asked, not stopping to think how it sounded.

Esca looked incredulous and not best pleased. “I’m not a child and I’m not your girlfriend,” he said, the atmosphere between them instantly changing from relaxed to strained. “You don’t have to keep playing the hero.”

“I’m not.” Marcus wanted to diffuse the tension as quickly as he could. “We just need to be careful out there. You never know who’s waiting.”

“You think I can’t look out for myself or outrun someone if I have to?” Esca snarled.

“What,” Marcus snapped angrily, forgetting about playing nice, “like you did that day the Seals were beating the crap out of you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Yeah and you’d be dead without me!”

Esca stared daggers at him before a slow smile crept across his face. “I was distracted, thinking about other stuff. If I’d been paying attention, no way they would’ve got me.”

“Yeah?” Marcus felt dizzy with the speed with which they spun from friendly to angry and back again.

“Uh huh.”

The threat of confrontation died away as quickly as it had risen and they stood facing each other, Marcus outside on the street while Esca was still in the doorway on a higher step so they were pretty much at a level height. They stared at each other for a moment, Esca’s face inscrutable as Marcus struggled with the urge to grab him and kiss him hard enough to split his lip.

“What are you waiting for, an invitation?”

“Huh?” His mind fogged by rapidly rising lust, Marcus thought maybe he’d missed part of the conversation.

“You went to all the trouble of following me and persuading me to hang out with you but you won’t just come out with it and ask for what you really want.” Esca let his gaze drift down to Marcus’ mouth and back up to his eyes. “I mean, this was all for a specific purpose, right?”

“Which is?” Marcus felt blind-sided by the way Esca blew hot and cold at the drop of a hat.

“What’s the point of not saying it like it is? We could both be dead this time tomorrow. Life’s shit like that.” Apparently he wasn’t one for the thrill of the chase. “You followed me cos you were interested and maybe I’m interested too.”

He fixed Marcus with a fierce stare that was both challenge and invitation, his mouth set in a hard line and his head held high in the determined set that had drawn Marcus to him in the first place and all Marcus could do was agree with him.

“Ok, yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you for a while and I wanted to do something about it.”

“I knew it. You’re so transparent.”

“I am not!” Marcus thought about all the effort he’d put into being subtle, never saying anything that couldn’t be explained away as something else more innocent.

“No? So the hard-on you were doing your best to try and hide earlier was just an optical illusion was it?”

All Marcus could do was let out a weary sigh and shrug his shoulders meekly, allowing a weary smile to settle on his face.

Esca grinned and started to laugh. “There you go. It’s that simple and now everybody knows where they stand.”

“Yeah.”

“What can I say, you have good taste. All you needed was a little encouragement.”

Ok, if Esca wanted to be upfront about all this then Marcus could do that. No way was he going to let anyone completely get the better of him. He was a Roman, and the Romans had pride.

“So,” he said, jutting his chin out in a reflection of Esca’s. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?”

A wicked smile spread slowly across Esca’s face as, without hesitation, he leaned in and parted his lips slightly but at the last minute he diverted away from Marcus’ mouth and pressed his lips to the hollow at the base of Marcus’ throat. Marcus heard his breath hitch at the unexpected kiss as his pulse roared in his ears.

“Good night,” Esca murmured against his neck. Then he was gone.



Drusillus dealt the guy he was sparring with a wicked right hook that had Marcus, Guern and the few others watching them in the boxing ring cheering loudly. He’d turned out to be a pretty good boxer after Marcus had finally persuaded him to ask Guern for a go in the ring, tearing strips off most of his opponents with his boundless energy and his love of a good punch-up. Marcus felt ridiculously proud of him. He yelled more encouragement and then clapped wildly as Drusillus’ hapless victim landed heavily on the canvas and Guern decided that enough was enough.

As Drusillus skipped around the ring with his arms aloft, as if he’d won a prize fight instead of knocking someone down in a training bout, Marcus saw Guern slip out the rear door and followed him out, hoping to talk some things over with him. He’d started thinking in earnest about where he could go when he finally managed to pack his bags and make his break but he’d decided to wait until this thing with the Seals was resolved before leaving; he owed it to the guys to stick around until the threat was over. He’d already started to get together as much cash as he could lay his hands on, emptying his account, selling a few things, calling in a few small debts, always ready with a story in case anyone asked why. It wasn’t much but it was a start. He found that whenever he started to think about the future though, images of Esca would thread their way into the daydreaming and confuse the issue.

He made his way outside to the yard and found Guern having a sly cigarette.

“Busted.”

“Shit!” Guern’s head whipped around and he automatically tried to hide the cigarette behind his back before he saw who it was. “It’s a free country,” he grumbled. “You ok? You look a bit preoccupied today.”

“Busy, that’s all.”

“Busy playing with fire.”

“No lectures today, ok? I’ve just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Hmmm. How are things with you and Mr MacCunoval?”

“Seriously?” Marcus couldn’t disguise the shock in his voice. “Have you got a sideline in reading minds now?”

“So I’m right.” Guern took a long draw on his cigarette and tossed the butt away, blowing a long stream of smoke out through his nostrils. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I just added the pieces together then took a wild stab at the answer. You asked me about him a while back, wanted to know his name. Why, unless you had a specific reason for being interested in him. And you took my car to him.”

“It was just a random garage I’d heard good things about.”

“Where Esca MacCunoval just happened to work. He signed the receipt, Marcus.”

Marcus sighed and banged his forehead against the wall a couple of times. Guern just ignored him and carried on.

“So what’s happening with him? You win him over yet?”

“Maybe.” Marcus paused for a moment. “That’s the problem. I didn’t really think it through, you know? I didn’t really expect him to agree to have anything to do with me and now he has, I’m kind of….”

“Anxious? Excited?”

“Yeah, all that. Do you know what it’s like when you really want something and then when you get it you don’t really know what to do with it?”

Guern wiggled his eyebrows. “Would you like me to draw you a picture?”

“Very funny.” Marcus shot him a withering look. “That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to get to know him and hopefully find out that he was a prat, just another fucking Brigantes I couldn’t care less about. I promised myself I wouldn’t get too involved.”

“And are you involved?”

“He kissed me last night. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Marcus covered his face with his hands and leaned back against the wall. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

“You’re telling me because most people can’t keep it inside when they meet someone who makes their heart beat a little faster.”

“Jesus,” Marcus grumbled. “You ever thought about writing poetry for a living?”

“Jut because you spend your spare time kicking the shit out of your fellow man, doesn’t mean you’re immune to any of this.”

“So what do I do? Stay and see how things work out? Leave and always wonder, what if?”

“You’re the only one who can answer that.” Guern patted him on the back. “Do yourself a favour and enjoy it while it lasts but don’t wait too long.”

“I can’t leave right now, not the way things are. Not if the Seals are serious.”

“I guarantee you, they’re serious. Be careful though, Marcus. If you really want out, don’t wait too long.”

“Yeah, I hear you but you know how it is. I’m kind of between a rock and several hard places.” He gave Guern a half-hearted grin but Guern had his serious face on. “And I’m kind of curious to see where this thing with Esca goes.”

“So,” Guern drawled, rolling his eyes, “now it turns out that you’ve already decided what you’re going to do, what’s your next move?”

Once again, Esca had wormed his way into Marcus’ thoughts and an idea popped into his head. “Can I borrow your car sometime?” he asked. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

“Do I look like your fairy godmother?”

“Come on, old man. I’ve borrowed it before and always brought it back in one piece. And I got it fixed for you.”

“Ok, ok.” Guern rolled his eyes again. “I don’t have any plans any time soon so just let me know when and you can have it.”

They headed back inside and Marcus waited around until Drusillus was ready, wondering if he was up for hanging out for a while but he had other plans so Marcus decided to head home instead of seeing if anything was happening at the lock-up.

“Hey, Marcus!” Marcus turned back as he was leaving and instinctively caught whatever it was that Guern had thrown at him. A condom. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket in case anyone saw and shot Guern a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. “Just in case.”

He flipped Guern the finger and left. Once outside he pulled up his hood against the thin veil of rain that was now falling and rang Esca, his stomach flipping nervously when he picked up with a perky sounding “Hey, bitch!”

“Hey yourself, Murna. I am nobody’s bitch.” Marcus jogged across the road and made his way down towards the canal. “When’s your next free day?”

Esca hesitated. “Thursday, why?”

“Thursday’s good. Just meet me outside the church on Chester Street, 10am. We’re going somewhere for the day.”

“Where? Maybe I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Marcus could picture him on the other end of the phone, chin jutting out in that defiant manner of his, set to his default attitude of ‘challenge’.

“I’ll see you Thursday.” He ended the call before Esca had a chance to argue and whistled a tune as he walked along the tow path with a spring in his step and a hundred ideas circulating around inside his head. It was a sound like a branch snapping somewhere behind him that made him stop in his tracks and turn sharply, his senses immediately alert. The tow path was empty but his heart was thumping as he waited to see if anyone appeared. Nobody did and everything was quiet but Marcus reached into his pocket anyway to feel the reassuring weight of the knife he now carried and then he jogged the rest of the way home.