#unfortunately: i have to mentally compensate for the color tint from these glasses. however? less headaches. absolutely aces.

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

the first 1,000 words of the....the......the brutus/gaius thing. the ‘gaius doesn’t get executed, cassius wants to straight up murder brutus, so they run away to egypt’ AU

‘I’ve indulged whatever misplaced affection you have for Gaius so far,’ says Cassius, ‘but you cannot keep doing this.’

Brutus sighs. He stares at his hands.

‘I know,’ he says quietly.

‘Do you?’ snaps Cassius. ‘The lengths you keep going to for him, you’re going to ruin us all, and for what? He’s one of brothers Antonii, he’s not worth this--’

‘What are you, Cicero?’ says Brutus, finally looking up at Cassius, existential misery giving way to unfiltered annoyance.  ‘Go back to Rome and kiss the ground Octavian walks upon if you’re going to be like that.’

Cassius stares at Brutus for a long moment. ‘What kind of hold does he have over you, anyway?’ asks Cassius, and then, in a rush, like he’s realized something horrible: ‘Are you lonely?’

When Brutus says nothing in reply, Cassius makes a sound of despair in the back of his throat. ‘I cannot believe,’ he says, ‘you would risk everything we are doing, everything we’ve done so far, because you’re fucking lonely---’

‘We gain nothing from having him killed,’ interrupts Brutus, but he can’t find it within himself to argue with any kind of enthusiasm, not anymore. Cassius has reached inside and pulled out the most vulnerable truth left in him. He would be irritated, but mostly he’s just...

...tired.

Cassius says nothing, he doesn’t have to. They’ve had this conversation before. They have this conversation daily. If Brutus is being honest with himself, he’s a little surprised Cassius has put up with it for so long.  

‘We used to be close,’ Cassius says eventually. ‘We understood each other.’

‘No,’ says Brutus, finally standing up and walking towards the door. ‘I think we just got stuck with each other.’ He lingers for a moment, hand on the door frame, examining the visible paint between the space of his fingers. ‘When I was younger, maybe, but...’

‘You’ve changed,’ finishes Cassius, still looking out the window towards some unknown distance. There’s regret in his tone, and underneath it---something else. Conviction.

Brutus leaves.

•

Night falls, the heat from the day fades away into a comfortable coolness. A soft breeze drifts through the open air. Gaius Antonius steps into Brutus’ room and immediately drapes himself across the bed like a lazy cat while Brutus watches him, amused, from where he’s sitting behind his desk.

‘So,’ says Gaius. ‘I heard you got into another fight with Cassius.’

‘We’ve never not been fighting about something,’ Brutus says idly. ‘If it wasn’t personal, it was about politics, and then it would turn personal.’

Gaius hums.

‘This is more serious, though,’ he finally says.

Brutus looks at the papers scattered across the desk. Correspondence, information, reports, badly written poetry composed in moments of insomnia driven weakness. He wants to consign all of it to fire and never think about any of it again.

‘Yes.’

A moment passes in silence. The impulse to throw everything into a fire begins to turn into a concrete plan in Brutus’ mind. He’s not actually going to do it, but the fantasy of neatly organizing everything together and methodically casting each paper into open flame, watching it all reduce to ashes, is incredibly cathartic.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gaius says abruptly. Brutus looks over at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling, frowning.

‘What on earth for?’ asks Brutus.  

Gaius makes a vague, all-encompassing gesture with one of his hands. ‘All of this.’

‘This isn’t your fault,’ says Brutus incredulously. ‘If this is anyone’s fault, it’s--’

Gaius sits up, shaking his head. ‘I’m making it worse,’ he says, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘I keep—I don’t know why, I keep doing things I know I shouldn’t do, like something outside of me is compelling me to--’

Brutus gets out of the chair and crosses the room to sit next to Gaius, taking hold of the other man by his shoulders and waiting for Gaius to meet his eyes.

‘This isn’t,’ he says quietly, ‘your fault. We've known each other since we were teenagers, none of this is right. Nothing about this is how it should be. Who would blame you for your actions?’

‘You,’ Gaius says fiercely, eyes bright. ‘You should, you fucking idiot, don’t you get it--’

Whatever else he was going to say is cut off by the sound of someone running down the hall and sliding to a stop in the doorway.

‘Lucilius,’ says Brutus, surprised. He lets go of Gaius.

‘You,’ says Lucilius, slightly out of breath, ‘both of you need to get the fuck out of here.’

•

The moon shines bright in the clear dark of the sky, something Brutus had thought beautiful only hours before.  

Now it feels like a bad omen.

‘Cassius is making plans,’ whispers Lucilius, as the three of them navigate the few remaining shadows that survive the light of the moon. It’s less than ideal, but there are only a handful of soldiers lingering about at the main entry ways. Brutus and Lucilius have done more with worse odds. ‘To have you sent east, to deal with some shit, so that he can have Gaius executed and his head sent back to Antony while you’re away.’

‘That’s smart,’ Gaius whispers back. ‘And incredibly shitty of him.’  

Brutus stays silent. He has never felt particularly welcome within the walls of this villa (nor did he ever expect to: after all, what house willingly welcomes an invader?) but as they move amidst the shadows, the structure of the building begins to feel oppressive, almost violent: as though it’s become aware that he’s trying to leave and was loath to let him go before it can get retribution.

It feels heavy, like an actual weight pressing down around him, distracting enough that he almost misses it when Lucilius says:

‘He wants you dead too, Brutus.’

It’s....unsurprising, if he’s being honest with himself. It doesn’t stop him from feeling disappointed.

Lucilius glances at him out of the corner of his eye. ‘Sorry,’ he says.

Brutus smiles wryly at him. ‘Be honest,’ he says quietly. ‘You're surprised one of us didn’t try to kill the other sooner.’

Gaius makes a choked off wheezing sound, hand clamped over his mouth to smother the sound, but his shoulders shake with silent laughter.