Chapter Text
Cottia is the birthday girl. And the birthday girl chose the most popular, outlandish gay club in Paris for her small, celebratory gathering.
The birthday girl dressed him herself and Marcus is not entirely comfortable. The white button-up shirt is too snug across his chest. Long sleeves rolled above his elbows; tight as hell. Buttoned all the way up to his neck with a rather drab tie, dark blue with silver pinstripes. Neat silver pin tack. A pair of dark jeans. She wouldn’t let him wear a pair of trainers, though, forcing him into a worn pair of dress blacks.
All in all, Marcus doesn’t think he looks bad. He simply doesn’t see the appeal of the Harry Potter look.
Musing, he looks out over the dance floor, gaze picking out his friends.
Cottia is wearing her old Catholic school uniform, with the skirt scandalously short and bra peeking out of the shirt. She’s dancing with Cub. Who’s wearing almost exactly the same thing as Cottia; different colors, slightly longer skirt. He was a smash the second he entered the club and Marcus had been surprised when the young man pulled himself away from the admiring throngs long enough to dance with Marcus. Some of that old affection still lingering, apparently. The two young ones seem perfectly at home in this cacophony of bass and glitter.
Marcus smiles, looks around for his lover. For Esca.
Upon finding him, Marcus thinks maybe he understands the appeal of this school boy look.
On Esca, it’s very fetching. His shirt is neither too loose nor too tight, but skimming his lean form perfectly. Sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the finely veined forearms. A few buttons are left undone at the collar, simple black tie pulled loose. His jeans couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the dark, distressed denim they are. Finished off with his favorite Converse.
Marcus finishes his beer while he watches Esca dancing. He moves from partner to partner, song to song, with great ease. Nothing fancy, nothing too bump-and-grind. Just dancing, enjoying the music with simple motion. He enjoys watching. The lithe form moves gracefully. Those wiry arms wrap around a waist. Big hand wiping the sweat from under his messy hair. Broad smile flashing under the strobe light.
Laughing, sweating, grinning. The most beautiful thing Marcus has ever seen and that familiar heat in the pit of his stomach flares up.
Softened by the equally familiar warmth in his chest.
And then Esca is coming toward him, beckoning.
Marcus grins, finishes his beer in two swallows. Pushes his mouth against Esca’s and allows himself to be hauled onto the dance floor.
the end