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Esca was right. It really had been quite a foolish thing to do.
All he had wanted was to do something kind for Esca – proof, of sorts, that he valued their friendship, and perhaps an offer to make it something more.
Esca’s Samhain was the next day, and it had seemed a fitting holiday with which to begin their new life together. A new year, a new life, a memorial and tribute to the loved ones they had both lost through the harsh wars that divided their nations, and a celebration of a life of peace that awaited them from that moment forward.
And so he had set out to town to buy a few of Esca’s favorite foods with a bit of money he had managed to save: a few potatoes, some fruit, and the best cut of pork he could manage to barter from the butcher.
One look at the sky had let Marcus know it would rain later that evening, but he thought if he hurried, he could make it back to the farm before the downpour began.
He hadn’t, though. The rain had started to trickle down as he began the ride home, purchases tucked safely away in his satchel. Halfway to their farm, the rain had begun to pour, turning the dirt roads to treacherous paths of thick mud.
It didn’t take him long to realize it would be a foolish thing to continue trying to ride his mare. The road was too slick already; soon, it would be near impossible for his horse to keep her purchase. So he’d made to dismount, but the shift in weight must have thrown her. She stumbled as he lowered himself, and he landed far too hard on his right leg.
The pain was intense, and he’d bit his cheek to hold in a scream.
He stood there for several moments, leaning against his mare and trying to catch his breath as he waited for the pain to recede. Once it had done so, he retrieved the reins and examined his mare’s legs as well as he could, searching for any injury. As soon as he had determined her stumble had not hurt her in any way, he began the long walk home.
Every step sent pain up through his thigh, but he had no choice. It would be dangerous to stay out. Eventually, the temperature would dip, and while a night in the cold wouldn’t kill him, it was very possible Esca would if he found out how foolish Marcus had been.
Marcus sighed. He’d likely earn a scolding from Esca either way.
When he finally came around the last bend in the road, their farmhouse visible in the distance, Marcus breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had begun shivering not long ago, and he longed for nothing more than the warmth of their home and Esca’s smile.
A shadow moving across the entryway caught his attention. He wasn’t surprised to see Esca perched against the doorframe, eyes trained outwards, as if he had been waiting for Marcus to approach.
Their eyes met, finally, and Esca sagged, just a little, before going rigid at the sight of Marcus limping. He sprinted across the courtyard and took the reins of Marcus’s mare.
“I’ll stable her. Get inside,” he said.
Marcus obeyed, thankful to be out of the cold rain. He didn’t bother to fetch dry clothing. He sat on one of their two dining chairs and propped his leg on the other, stretching out the ache. He undid the lacings of his trousers and pulled them down just far enough to examine his thigh. He was grateful his old battle wound hadn’t been reopened, but the dull throbbing warned him of the ache that would persist over the next few days.
He didn’t notice Esca come in through the back, and he started slightly when warm hands pressed against his thigh.
“Does it hurt?” Esca asked.
Marcus nodded. “But not too badly.”
Esca began kneading the muscle of his thigh, and Marcus stifled a groan as tension was pressed out. He leaned back, resting his head on the back of his chair, and allowed himself to slump a bit.
“You’re a fool,” Esca said. “Why did you go out?”
Marcus considered lying. The satchel with Esca’s gifts was sitting next to him, wet, but otherwise undamaged. The dinner was meant to be a surprise, and he was disappointed that his efforts may very well have been in vain.
But Esca knew him too well, and would recognize the lie immediately.
Even it had been otherwise, Marcus doubted he could bring himself to lie to Esca. Not then, and likely not ever.
“Samhain,” he said, finally. “It’s Samhain tomorrow.”
Esca paused in his ministrations and looked up at him, curiously. “Yes, it is.”
“I…that is…” He frowned. He wasn’t one to normally be at a loss for words. “I brought you some of your favorite foods. I thought we could celebrate.”
Esca looked up at him, and Marcus shifted under the weight of Esca’s stare, ignoring the heat pooling in his groin. The intensity in Esca’s eyes, the hidden depths a mere gaze from him could convey, it all made Marcus feel small, but impossibly large. Like no one else could fit into Esca’s world but him, but also like one frown from Esca could crush his spirits in a way being discharged from his nation’s military never could.
Esca was terrifying, but exhilarating, and Marcus didn’t think he’d truly been living in the time before Esca.
“You are still a fool,” Esca said, after a long moment. His hands began to knead again, and he leaned over, pressing a small kiss to the scar on Marcus’s thigh. “But I suppose I don’t mind too much since you are my fool.”
Marcus grinned. He moved his leg out of Esca’s grasp and placed them on the floor, then reached out and drew Esca to him. “I don’t think I mind, either,” he said.
Esca shook his head. “You really are a fool,” he said, but he was smiling, and it took the bite out of his words.
“But I’m a fool who remembered your love of pears” Marcus said.
Esca paused, shooting Marcus a look out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose you are,” he said, and Marcus can’t help but laugh and close the distance between them, sealing the promise of the new year – and a new life – with a heated kiss.