The stars overhead winked brightly in their carpet of blackness as though they had secrets they were refusing to tell, and at that moment Gnaeus felt as though this was some kind of personal insult.
Perhaps he should have listened a bit more to Lucius’ ramblings on the subject, he thought morosely, watching Spurius lean over the rampart and direct that sharp, enquiring stare out into the darkness of the German countryside. Then maybe he would have had someone to back him up.
“There is nothing out there, Gnaeus.”
“There is, though,” Gnaeus said, his tone split more or less equally between concern and petulance. “Out in the edge of th’ trees, Spurius. Somethin’ is movin’.”
“I cannot see this something, Gnaeus. At all. Are you certain you are not merely imagining things?”
“Fuck off, ‘mnot imaginin’. This could be important.”
Spurius tilted his head slightly and lifted an eyebrow, and Gnaeus’ scowl deepened exponentially.
“An’ y’can fuck off with that look, too.”
Shrugging, Spurius drew himself up and moved away from his viewpoint, gesturing for Gnaeus to take his place.
“If you are so convinced that your creeping intruder is a solid fact, point me to him.”
“Fine,” Gnaeus grumbled, stepping up with as much dignity as he could muster and squinting into the blackness. “’Cos if I’m right an’ it’s a German, I ain’t gonna defend your ass if you talk me inta droppin’ it and then we get overrun.”
He could feel Spurius rolling his eyes behind him, and set his shoulders against it with the firmness of a man who was reasonably certain he had the moral high ground. After all, he was definitely right. There had been movement.
There did not appear to be any just that minute, however. Which was unfortunate.
“If you lean out much further over the parapet, you will fall straight down,” came Spurius’ dry tones from behind him. “And I am not going to try and catch you.”
“Bollocks,” Gnaeus mumbled, retreating somewhat from imminent overbalance and rubbing at one eye. Spurius touched his arm.
“It was probably a deer, Gnaeus. Worrying about it unduly is not going to help.”
“Mebbe you’re right. But I can’t- look! There!”
His arm shot out so fast it nearly jabbed Spurius in the face, finger levelled accusingly at a section of undergrowth that was definitely, unmistakeably, without a doubt moving.
Spurius narrowed his eyes.
“…Well then,” he said softly. “Perhaps there was an element of fact in your speculation…”
“Damn straight,” rasped Gnaeus, returning to his prior precarious position, face and body intent as a hunting dog. “There’s somethin’ there- more than one somethin’, look!”
The movement in the bushes had grown more pronounced. Whatever it was was getting closer, and it appeared to be making a direct line through the trees towards the open ground surrounding the fort.
“We better be ready,” said Gnaeus, voice as quiet as it ever got. “Just in case.”
Spurius nodded; both men tensed, hands reaching almost in unison for the javelins leant against the wall nearby. The atmosphere stretched and thickened as the commotion near the treeline grew closer.
And then, quick enough to take them by surprise, out leapt-
A doe, with a stag quick on her heels.
The two sentries watched in blank silence as nature took its course in front of them, culminating with both animals disappearing back into the woods as quickly as they had emerged. Gnaeus let out an explosive breath; Spurius blinked very slowly.
“Well,” he said. “I was correct. It was indeed a deer.”
Gnaeus looked at him, then tilted back his head and let out a loud, genuinely amused bark of laughter before abruptly leaning over and pulling Spurius into as tight a hug as he could manage with both of them armoured. Spurius let out a small choking noise, but did not object.
“You b’lieved it was a German for a minute’r two, don’t you even say else!”
“Better safe than sorry,” said Spurius, with such dignity that Gnaeus dissolved into further fits of amusement, and missed the smile creeping its way across Spurius’ own expression.
He did not, however, miss the blush that materialised when he nudged his nose between Spurius’ face and the cheek-guard of his helmet and whispered,
“Wanna go copy the deer when we get back?”
