(A/N: This was originally part of a larger WIP, set in the years leading up to the play, but that WIP is falling apart. I thought this little scene was salvageable, though...do you think so too? I am actually kind of hesitant to post this, because of the content, but the desire for feedback is overriding that hesitance right now. XD
Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm only borrowing them for a bit-- and I'm not even making money!)
When Caesar returned that evening, Brutus was waiting for him in his chambers. A boy-- no, young man-- of 18 years, in so many ways still too young to be a man. Slender and young and oddly intense, those dark eyes that seemed to see and know more than they should. Oddly alluring.
"Caesar," he greeted, a little hesitant, a little angry.
Caesar pulled him into a hug. "How pleasant to see you, Brutus!"
Brutus tried to resist the embrace. "Don't... don't, please." He stepped back and turned away. "You remarried," he said, a statement, not an accusation. "And you stopped coming to see my mother. You stopped coming to see me."
"Is that what this is about?" Caesar laughed slightly. "Oh, my boy, you are of an age to know I have some duties. Perhaps in a few months, it shall become once again acceptable for me to visit you. But of late, I have had not the time nor the spirit for such fantasies."
Brutus shook with suppressed rage, lips drawn in a thin line. "So-- so then-- so all this time, I was nothing but a toy? Some cheap trinket to be thrown away when I stopped being entertaining?"
Caesar was rendered speechless for a moment. "You know that is false. I have told you countless times, I love you."
Brutus gave a petulant toss of his head-- reminiscent of himself at a younger age. "You silver-tongued politician, why should I believe you?"
"Brutus, I have just married, I must spend some time solely in the company of my wife--"
Brutus laughed mirthlessly. "A marriage for a political alliance, Caesar!" And again, the anger seeped into his voice. "Stop treating me like a child! For two years have I been a citizen of Rome, an adult, and yet you treat me like a mere child still!"
Caesar stood still, breathing slightly ragged. "Is that really what you want, Brutus?"
"Yes, of course that's what I want!" He whirled and slammed his hand against the wall, and when the sudden burst of fury had died away, he rested his forehead against the back of his hand. "I am not your equal, that I know, that I understand, that I accept. But I am a little closer. I can keep counsel, I can write, I can speak. I am a Roman citizen now. Would you still insist to treat me as a child?"
"Is that really what you want?" Caesar demanded again.
"Yes!" Brutus repeated, turning once more to face Caesar.
They stood in silence, the sound of their breathing filling the room. Later, neither would remember which of them started it first. All they could remember was that suddenly their lips were locked on each others', and that the kiss was unlike anything they had done together before. Their tongues tangled, Caesar fighting for dominance while Brutus fought back, trying to prove himself.
They pulled apart, Brutus running a tongue over his tingling lips. "Is this what you want?" Caesar asked. He closed his eyes. Patience, he warned himself, before he let himself open them again. "I can't... I won't be able to stop if you let me keep going. I can't guarantee that you'll ever be able to turn back."
"I don't want to turn back." Brutus's eyes blazed with a defiance that Caesar had never seen before. Those six words were all the consent he needed.
"Very well, then," Caesar breathed.
Caesar never forgot to lock the door.
When his mother had expressed concern over his wincing gait, he had brushed it off nonchalantly and blamed it on the rain-slick streets and his own clumsiness. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the blush that inevitably spread across his cheeks every time he saw Caesar.
Was this sort of thing even... allowed? He couldn't say for sure... and for some reason that distressed him, that he couldn't apply reason and logic to this like he could to other things. He couldn't explain why he loved Caesar as both a father and-- dared he think it?-- a lover. He couldn't rationalize and assure himself completely that this kind of in-between love was right, and he couldn't distance himself from his feelings, and somehow that was very distressing. But there was no turning back now-- and Brutus stood by what he said that night, that he never planned to turn back.