Title: And?

Rating: R

Fandom: The Eagle

Pairing: Marcus Aquila/Esca Cunoval

Verse: AU!verse; Modern times. America. Italian-American Marcus. British Esca.

Summary: Marcus has no reason to be at this small gay bar outside of town. His uncle brings him because “it’s fun and who knows, you might find the answer you’re looking for” but all Marcus finds is a whole lot of guilt. Until the very sexy bartender walks into his life and suddenly, he is all the reason Marcus needs.

Notes: This is for love, ilovemyalpaca. She couldn’t wait until I watched The Eagle so I can write her some Marcus/Esca. I watched it. Just needed a plot. Plot found me. Hope you like. Please do comment if you can and let me know what you think.

Chasse, I hope you like it. Yours is the only opinion that matters on this one. Lol.

Marcus couldn’t believe he’d let his uncle talk him into coming here. This, this place! His eyes constantly scanned over men clad in too-tightly fitting shirts and pants, men scantily clothed, men wearing almost no clothing at all. He wished he could honestly say he watched with disgust but he couldn’t. There was no disgust. No revulsion. And that was what lay guilt the most. Not his uncle, not the men, but rather this new, strange, and persistent desire he had to be one of these men writhing against one another.

This wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this but it was the first time he’d felt it in such a mass quantity. He trained his eyes to the bar, as if hoping that would ebb the siren call that seemed to come from the dance floor. It didn’t. In fact, he raised a finger to single the bartender, and when the man came to stand before him, Marcus suddenly wished he hadn’t.

He found himself staring back at the bartender who was quite possibly the sexiest man Marcus had ever laid eyes on. He took in the light brown hair that seemed almost gold when the light hit it just right. His eyes were a stormy blue that you just couldn’t help getting lost in. His face was open and playful. His body seemed scrawny but Marcus was sure he could bet and win that when the other took off the hoodie jacket he wore, the muscles would stretch teasingly at the black shirt underneath. Then there was his smile and Marcus was certain that he loved this about the man most of all.

That was, until suddenly it was gone. Marcus blinked and recoiled a little to find the bartender glaring at him. He looked around quickly, only there was no one in the line of that glare but him. He realized he was upset and a little embarrassed, drawing himself up as anger took over him. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He was just like everyone else here, wasn’t he?

“What the hell, man?”

A sneer crossed over that face and Marcus didn’t know whether to be annoyed or worried. Annoyed seemed the obvious choice but he was leaning more toward worry. No one, he didn’t care who they were, should look that good when sneering.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, his eyes looking him over before returning to his gaze. There was no shame in those eyes even though he had openly checked him out. The sneer became a smirk but it seemed just as deadly. Marcus let his guard down, but only just a little.

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t the least bit sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t offer it but since you asked oh so nicely, mate, it’s Esca.”

Marcus raised a brow but said nothing. This reaction didn’t seem to faze the brunette and Marcus was sure he’d gotten similar reactions a lot. He slipped on a well trained smile with ease. “It’s nice to meet you, Esca. I’m Marcus.” He held out his hand, determined to turn this around and win the man over. He really didn’t know why it mattered so much to him. It just did.

Esca eyed his hand and turned away, taking a bar rag from the bucket of what was probably sanitizer or soap water. He started to wipe down the bar. “What will you have?” he asked as he wiped the same spot three times now before tossing the cloth back into the bucket. Marcus blinked before he realized the other was asking his drink order. Awkwardly, he took his hand back, raising it to rub the back of his neck.

“I… I’m not…”

Esca rolled his eyes and walked away. Marcus blinked, feeling his face get hot. Of all the nerve— He blinked as the man returned, setting two beer bottles in front of him. They were Coronas. Marcus looked up at the man.

“I don’t drink beer.”

“Of course you don’t, pet. But we don’t have any of the froufrou dainty mixed drinks you’re used to.”

Marcus’s eyes widened.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled. Esca smirked and leaned in close.

“Judging by the way you are dressed in your shirt tie and cardigan, you are either rich, a politician or related to one, or religious.” He snorted softly. “Scratch of religious because you’ve checked out a large number of men here tonight, including me. Scratch off politician, because no cameras have tried to follow your tight ass in here. So that leaves rich.” The grin on his lips was ironic in contrast with the utter loathing in his eyes. He started to walk away.

Marcus should have let him. Should have left him alone. But he couldn’t.

“And?” he called.

Esca stopped and without turning around, he replied.

“And I can’t stand you.”