Chapter Text
Brutus sits quietly on a rock in the orchard around his house, staring down at his feet as he swings them back and forth. Hearing movement comes from an open window in the house, he takes a guess at who it is, “ Oi, Lucius, can you turn the lights in my office on?”
“You have legs, do it yourself.” Yep, that was Lucius alright. Just as obsti-obstante- he was just as pigheaded as ever.
“But you’re my servant,” Brutus replies simply, being pretty stubborn himself.
“So?”
Rolling his eyes, Brutus rests his forearms on his knees, speaking tauntingly, “Sooo, I pay our salary.”
The brunette can practically hear the wheels in his servant’s head turning as he thought that over. “You make a very good point, your Beefy-ness, I’ll go turn that light on now.”
Brutus can hear his footsteps get further and further away, huffing to himself when their echo completely disappears. “That’s what I thought.”
Sighing, he slides down the display rock he’s sitting on, so he’s on the grass. He promptly flops over, face smooshed into the grass unattractively (but is it really?) as he begins to speak to himself.
“Agh, I don’t know what to do about this Caesar thing. On one hand, killing him would make me feel, like, super bad. On the other hand, I really don’t want us to have a king. His head is already as big as his waist, so I don’t want to know what’ll happen if his ego gets any bigger. I mean, I’ve never seen him abuse his power, but I also didn’t know Cassius was open to murder, so I might not be the best judge of character.”
He rolls over a few times, eventually ending up on his front as he stares ahead of him waiting for the world to stop spinning.
It was a hard decision to get right. Really, anyone can be harmless until they come into power and it changes them. His thoughts halt when he hears his stomach start to rumble and he groans miserably. “ I think I should have had Lucius make some breakfast too, cooked eggs are sounding really good right now. “
He hears footsteps again but he doesn’t care enough to look up. No matter who it is, if they work at his house they’ll probably have seen this kind of behavior from him before. He eventually sees a pair of familiar sandals come into view.
Before he can ask about food, a voice interrupts.
“Don’t even think about it, I already walked all the way to your room to turn the light on.” He sees something white float down into view, and after picking it up to study it he realizes it’s a piece of paper. Lucius continues, ”Which reminds me, I found this letter. It doesn’t look like the floral covered stationary you use so I figured I’d bring it to you.
Brutus just kinda stares at it for a moment before smiling, just like the himbo he is. “Oh, thanks, hey is it the 15th of march tomorrow?”
Lucius sighs, putting a hand on his hip, “How am I supposed to know? Do I look like a calendar to you?”
Brutus’ head flops down as he frustratedly replies, “No, but you had to have walked by one in the hallway. Can you please go check?”
“Uggh, fine, but I better be working overtime for this late night crap.”
Lucius leaves again and Brutus decides laying like this is starting to make his stomach hurt so he rolls over to look up at the sky.
“Huh, how did I not notice that meteor shower before now? Well, I guess if nothing else it’ll make reading his suspicious note easier.” He sits up, eyes scanning over the letter as he mouths the words while reading. Weird.
“We the people…of Rome, think Caesar’s a meanie and don’t want him to be king. Please, help us. Obi-wan Beeferoni, you’re our only hope.”
Brutus looks up from the letter, staring out into space as if processing the contents of the piece of paper he’d been given. But really, we all know there’s nothing going on in that sweet, stupid brain of his.
He stands up suddenly, taking a minute to wobble as he gets dizzy from standing up to face. When that’s settled, he puts his hand on his hips to strike a power pose as he speaks with finality. “Well, I guess this settles it, I’m going to help plan a murder for the sake of Rome.”
He hears a loud knock sound from somewhere deep in the house, and he leans to look in the doorway he could see from his spot in the garden that was actually only a few feet from the house.
Sucking in a breath, he shouts, “Hey, Cassius, can you get that?”
“Do you plan on giving me a bonus this month?”
Finally having enough of the attitude, the brunette agrees, “Yeah, sure whatever!”
“Then I’d be happy to, sir! Also, it is March 15th, so get ready for basketball!”
Sitting in the butterfly position, Brutus once again speaks aloud to himself, proving that he needed therapy even before agreeing to murder. “ Ever since Cassius…convinced me to turn against Caesar, I’ve had a really bad feeling in my tummy. Like when you steal the last piece of cake after someone already called dibs.” He rubs his feet together thoughtfully. “I don’t like it. But, I do like Cassius, so I think it evens out.”
“Your boyfriend’s here.” Lucius announces when he returns, a roll of his eyes being the only real fanfare the words receive.
“Boyfriend?” Brutus asks, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever.
Lucius replies in a long, suffering tone, “You know, Cassius?”
The himbo perks up, grabbing Lucius by the shoulders, “Cassius?’ Here? At this hour? I wonder what it’s about.” He stops to smooth down his hair nervously. “Hey, how do I look?
Lucius huffs, leaning against the doorframe he’s standing in, “As stupid as ever. And FYI. your boy-toy isn’t alone so I wouldn’t get too excited.
Brutus immediately deflates, kicking at a stray rock. “Oh. Well, who’s here with him?”
“Heck if I know, all their faces are covered. Now, will you go and deal with them so I can finally get back to bed?”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Brutus waves him away as he makes his way to the main foyer of the house, muttering, “It’s probably just some other people coming to help with the murder plot anyway.”
Lucius leaves, not really paying attention to the rest of what Brutus says. He’s much more worried about getting his well deserved 14 hours of beauty sleep.
Brutus makes it to the front-uh-whatever that fancy word was to find Cassius and at least four or five other guys with him. If you’re worried about there not being an exact number, you go to the trouble of trying to count people at 2 o’clock in the morning. Especially when you’ve already spent most of the night deciding whether you’re going to kill the man you’ve given the best years of your life to.
Cassius stops checking himself out in a mirror as he shyly waves at the man, “Hey, big guy, sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, “he adds in a much lower tone of voice. “Not that you need much of it.”
Brutus brushes past the words, a bit more focused on there being so many extra guys in his house. He says exactly what he thinks, as usual. “Hey, so who are these guys with you?”
Moving forward, Cassius grins as he sets a hand on Brutus’ arm. “Oh no one important, they’re basically just background extras.” Brutus looks at the hand, then Cassius, then the hand, and the cycle continues until the next person talks.
“Hey, that’s kinda rude-,” Casca butts in, but is ultimately interrupted.
“That’s not important right now extra,” he steps back to stand beside Brutus, holding up a hand in a ‘stop’ motion. “What’s important is that Beefcake here has decided whether he wants to help with our plan, right?” He asks, leaning into Brutus' shoulder, dark hair falling in his eyes.
The brunette tenses up, more than a little nervous at the proximity, “Ah, yes, that. Well, I assume the whole thing has been keeping you up at night.”
Cassius hums, leaning in even closer if that’s possible, “Believe me you have no idea.”
“What?”
“What?”
Brutus stares at him a minute, before shaking himself out of it and turning to the others. Even so, he is acutely aware of Cassius' presence next to him. “Anyway, I have made my decision, and it’s to help kill Caesar so he doesn’t eventually become mad with power. Now, everyone join hands.”
Cassius immediately grabs both of Brutus’ hands, staring into his eyes intensely. The others slowly grab hands with each other, secretly passing money from bets on why exactly Cassius wants Brutus involved in this plan.
Trying to ignore the smaller hands in his, Brutus speaks, “I think what we should do-”
“Is swearing a binding oath to each other, forever and always? Sickness, health, all that?” Cassius interrupts excitedly, leaning forward even further to Brutus’ space by getting on his toes. For the first time since in the space that they’ve known each other, Brutus sees that Cassius’ deep brown eyes are kinda pretty. You know, when they’re not filled with mirth while silently reveling in the downfalls of others.
“Uh, no, no oath.” Brutus replies hesitantly, watching regrettably as Cassius deflates back down onto his feet.
“Oh.”
The brunette feels a strong urge to pat the man’s head like an anime love interest and sing “Brown Eyed Girl” softly. You know, like a totally relatable love interest would. Instead, he ignores it and speaks to the others like the awkward soft boi he is.
“Swearing is for cowards who need a promise to make sure they’ll go through with something. Only people who are worried about breaking an oath swear one, so we won’t! We’re much nobler than that, so we’ll act like it.” He says confidently, and Cassius raises a hand to fan himself, you know, from attractiveness or something.
Another man, Decius, pipes in, “But should we only go after Caesar? What about others?”
This catches Cassius’ attention, and he lets go of Brutus’ hands to whirl around and face the others, suddenly much more serious. “I think we should also go after Mark Antony! He’s Caesar's boytoy, so he might try to use his own power to get back at us for killing Caesar. Plus, his face is a crime against humanity itself.”
Brutus also puts in his two cents on the matter, he’d also thought about whether they should only go after Caesar, “Nah, it’s one thing to kill Caesar cause we’re paranoid about him going mad with power. Killing Mark Antony too would be way too much bloodshed for my taste. Plus, it’s not like a snake where the head can still bite you. It’s the same as chopping off his arm, the arm can’t do anything without something else controlling it.
Cassius hums, clearly not a fan of this idea, or sudden change in tone of the story, “Still, though, gay love is a powerful thing so are we really sure he’ll be completely harmless?
Brutus shakes his head, placing a hand on Cassius' shoulder, “Nonsense, if he really is in love with Caesar, chances are he’s more likely to cry about it and get himself killed somehow than actually do anything to us. Have you seen him try to work a can opener?”
Cassius sighs, not satisfied with the decision but knowing that Brutus wouldn’t budge on the point. “ Yeah, fair point.”
There’s a sudden clock noise because that’s what the script says even though this is ancient Rome. (I imagine a piece of glass that burns a rope that makes a bell ring)
Brutus waits for the clock to stop before turning back to the men, putting on his best smile despite how tired he is. He claps his hands to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Well, it’s getting late and we have a full day of murder tomorrow. Everyone should probably head home and go to bed.”
The men nod and murmur agreement, finally letting their hands fall from holding them together, some wiping the sweat off on their togas.
“Hey, wait,” Cassius interrupts, stopping the men, “how do we even know Caesar will be there tomorrow? After that crazy person running up to him the other days, he’s been super paranoid. What if something happens and he gets all superstitious and refuses to leave his house??
Decius pipes in once again, smirking mischievously, “Leave that to me, I’m a master in the art of persuasion, and I know how to flatter him. I’m sure I can get him to come with me, all by myself.”
Cassius nods, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yeah, okay, whatever, but I think that we can all agree it would be smart that whoever can come with to get Caesar to the capital should.”
They all once again murmur their agreement, shuffling on their feet which were getting sore from all the standing.
“Well, I think that’s enough planning for one night. Everyone should get to bed and get some rest, see you tomorrow!” Brutus waves them off and they all finally turn to leave. He also tries to go back to his room but hears footsteps following him. He turns to find Cassius walking after him.
“Uh, Cassie, I said everyone should go to bed.”
“Yeah,” Cassus hums, clearly not getting it.
“You know, your own bed, at home.”
“Oh, right, right, totally.” Cassius agrees, turning to leave the same way the others had, hoping the red on his face doesn’t show too much in the dark.
Brutus watches him go, before sighing to himself, putting his hands on his hips as he stares around his house. “Well, Lucius is probably asleep by now, so eggs are out of the question. Lucky for him, he won’t be plagued with thoughts of murder all night.” He looks down in an odd moment of seriousness, “I really hope I’m doing the right thing.”
It’s in the middle of thinking about this that his wife by marriage only, Portia walks in. She also hasn’t gotten much sleep tonight, but not for the same reason.
“What was that, dear husband?”
Not wanting his wife involved in the plot, Brutus struggles for an excuse, “Uh, nothing, just thinking aloud about Cassius. Why-uh-why do you ask?”
Portia rolls her eyes, blowing a few strands of ginger hair out of her eyes, “Well, duh, you barely do anything else.”
“Well, I’m not sure if I’d quite go that far-.”
Portia walks straight up to him, crossing her arms as she looks him straight in the eye. “WellI would, but the real question is why you’ve been acting so strange lately. Pacing, muttering to yourself, randomly smashing your head into walls.” She waves an arm around, the question turning into a rant as she gets her pent up frustration out. “Anytime I ask what’s wrong, you get all weird and avoid the question. I figured you were just being weird, going through a midlife crisis or something, but it’s really starting to feel like more than that.”
“I’m just not feeling well is all I’m,” Brutus fakes a cough, ”sick”.
Rolling her eyes again, Portia raises a sarcastic eyebrow at her husband. “Yeah, and that’s why you’re walking around in the middle of the night, wearing barely anything for the cold, and talking to strange men, “this time she fake coughs, saying Cassius’ name in between coughs, ”who came over to our house at night.”
“Well, I mean-.”
The redhead interrupts, pointing her finger in his face threateningly, “Don’t play dumb with me, himbo. We’ve been “married” for years now and I know when something’s up with you. I just figured you would have the decency to tell me.”
Brutus is quick to try and shut that idea down, waving his hands around as if to dispel the words from the air. “ Hey, it’s not like that, you’re like, my best friend.”
Portia’s glare lessons as she sighs, lowering her finger, “I know that stupid, but it still hurts that you’re keeping things from me! Really, me!” She starts to pace in front of him, waving her hands around once more. “I once stabbed myself in the thigh to get us out of an awkward dinner party with your parents, and this is how I’m treated?”
“Yes, I know and believe me I feel terrible it’s just-” Before he can try to explain himself, or just dig a deeper hole, a knock at the door interrupts him.
“Seriously? Now, who’s at the door?” He turns back to Portia, softly placing his hands on her arms in case she doesn’t want to be touched. She allows it. “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything later but I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a conversation you’ll want to be a part of.”
After looking at him carefully for a few seconds, she eventually nods with a worried face before leaving the room. When he checks the door, the brunette finds Ligarius, another senator, at the door waiting for him.
“Sorry dude,” the older man apologizes, stepping in without being asked yet, “I stopped for midnight pizza on the way and got kinda sidetracked. I was told you wanted to talk to me though?”
Brutus watches incredulously as he takes another bite of the pizza slice he was still eating. Well, at least the man was honest.
“Well, we have a particularly stomach-churning plan to make sure Rome won’t have a king any time soon.” He says carefully, testing the waters to see if Ligarius had heard anything about it yet.
Ligarius turns dramatically to face him, placing his free hand on his chest. “ You don’t mean?
Brutus nods, walking over to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Yes, I do. Please, walk with me and I’ll explain everything.”
They both walk further into the house, Ligarius noisily munching on his piece of pizza.