Written for a the_eagle_kink community prompt.

Prompt: Marcus is a high level lawyer/military official/other and has a small child from a previous (failed) relationship. He needs a baby-sitter/child-minder/whatever. Esca is a full-time student who needs money. Marcus hires Esca and everything is wonderfully simple. Until it isn't.
Cue mixed signals, both thinking the other isn't interested/gay, awkward moments when Marcus' PA/Child's mother comes back into the picture and tries to get back with Marcus and cute fluffy scenes.

Marcus loved his job as a police officer. He wouldn't change it for the world. Certainly, it was the best option for him – an honorably discharged Army officer. He had been wounded too badly to continue fighting the front lines – and fuck but nightmares of that day still haunted him – but after extensive, and often painful physical therapy, he had been able-bodied enough to fight on a more local level, namely the streets of his hometown, Calleva. Not that Calleva was small, it was large enough to have a university campus, three movie theaters, two shopping malls, four gang affiliations and a courthouse, but his new brand of service had so far proven to be a good deal less life-threatening than his previous one.

Which was undoubtedly for the best, as much as he missed the action sometimes. He still hadn't gotten out of the habit of wearing his dog tags around everywhere, at this point they had become as much symbolic as anything else, a reminder to himself of what he had been and the duties he still had to do as an officer of the law. Having them against his chest kept his standards up, which made him feel a little better about his job change.

After all, he was getting older and the wound to his thigh had been bad. That, and the return to the States had allowed him to reenter the dating world. As it turned out, a lot of girls found the wounded soldier bit really hot (which he didn't understand but he had definitely not complained). He had scored a steady girlfriend just two weeks after returning to normal society. Amanda was young and beautiful with long brown hair and big breasts and a fantastic smile. Marcus had instantly fallen for her. Sure she was a little more social than he was and wanted to go out to the bars and clubs often, but he had told himself that they were young and it was good that at least one of them acted their age since he himself had the shut-in habits of an old man.

Still, he had made sure that their dates were enjoyable and that he treated her well. It was actually nice to have someone to spend money on. He had made it to the rank of Major during his time in service and his paycheck had always gone directly into his bank account to gather dust since he hadn't had any reason to use it. So he was never bothered by her spending because it always gave him a sense of fulfillment and he had plenty of cash to burn, especially since he was now starting to receive retirement checks from the military as well. At the very least, when she was at home, Amanda brightened the entire apartment. The sex was also phenomenal, even if they had to work in ways to do it so that Amanda didn't have to constantly look at the gash on his thigh.

His life had gotten even better when he had been accepted into the police academy. For a while there, Marcus' life had been perfect. He had sprinted through academy training with flying colors and had gotten a job on the force within six months, immediately working the streets and quickly working up the ranks to the position of Sergeant. It had been exhilarating to wear a uniform again, to be an instantly recognizable symbol of authority, trust, and honor. He had finally felt like himself again, inside and out.

When Amanda had announced that she was pregnant that following New Year's Eve (the confession having been prompted when she had refused the offered champagne), just eight months into their relationship, Marcus had been shocked but ecstatic. He had always wanted to be a father, to raise a family, to be part of a close family unit ever since his own father and mother had passed away years ago. He had even asked Amanda to marry him. She had said yes, of course, squealing and gushing out words of endearment as she threw her arms around him.

That was, however, when the trouble had started. Since Amanda was pregnant, she couldn't go out drinking and she quickly got tired of staying at home. She would spend hours out with her friends but the truth was that there wasn't much for her to do after dark that didn't involve alcohol so she began spending her evenings with Marcus. It made Marcus feel bad since he knew he wasn't the most fun guy to be around. He had heard that enough times during his service days.

Amanda had also discovered the pitfalls of being married to a police officer. Without meaning to or even noticing, Marcus could work late into the night if he didn't watch the clock carefully, getting into messes that would keep him hours longer than initially anticipated. There was also the constant danger of being injured. To Marcus, this was all part of the job he had signed up for. To Amanda, they had been points of contention.

By the time that their son, Rowan, was born, their marriage was tense. For five long years they lived with each other and a roller-coaster of emotions, their interactions reeling from passionate love one night to screaming and fits of silent rage the next. Marcus had come to terms with the fact that he may have rushed into his initial marriage proposal too quickly. He was somehow still shocked when Amanda had dropped the divorce papers into his lap late one night while he was watching the news. He also hadn't expected that she would push full-custody of Rowan onto him with the excuse that she wanted to be single and unattached while she was still young and that she couldn't handle a child at this stage in her life anymore.

So now, at thirty-four years of age, Marcus Aquila was the divorced father of a five-year-old rambunctious little boy. His life had already been filled with a military career, a near-death battle wound, nearly six years of police service under his belt and all he felt now was ragged and run-down. Rowan was a fantastic kid and literally the love of Marcus' life, not difficult with the kid's sun-tanned, freckled skin, big green eyes and his ridiculous mop of dark brown hair, but being a single parent was hard. It had only been six months since Amanda had left and Marcus was exhausted.

It was impossible to balance an unpredictable career like his where he could be called in at all hours, day or night, and caring for a five-year-old child. He did have a day-care service to watch Rowan during the day but still, finding the time to drop him off and pick him up during the service's hours of operation was a never-ending struggle. The only time that Marcus had any sort of break were the occasional weekends Rowan would spend with Marcus' uncle. The older man had a country estate and quite frankly loved doting on his grand-nephew.

There were days that he sort of missed the dirty, gritty, front lines of battle – they seemed so much simpler now.

Leaning back in his chair with a tired grunt, Marcus stretched out the crick in his neck as he sent his latest report off to his Chief. This particular Friday had already been long and it wasn't even three o'clock yet. Marcus rubbed his thigh at the memory of the drug dealer he had been forced to follow after a car chase had turned into a foot chase. Sure, Marcus had eventually tackled and cuffed the guy, but he had definitely strained his leg in the process. That was the problem with getting older; his old wounds were beginning to return to haunt him for longer periods as he continued to push himself. It didn't help that since he was Sergeant, not only did he have to write up a report for his own incident, he also had to help review the daily reports of all the officers under his watch shift – which, admittedly, was only about ten since Calleva was not such a big city, but still.

Marcus was suddenly startled out of his thoughts when his cell phone rang, its vibration function setting off a ripple across his entire desk, and Marcus dove to answer it. While personal calls weren't normally proper protocol for on-duty hours, only a handful of people had his private number and yes, it was the daycare. With a heavy sigh, Marcus lifted the phone to his ear. "Marcus Aquila here."

"Mr. Aquila? This is Cottia from Misty Hill Daycare."

His first concern was instinctual. "Is Rowan alright? Did something happen?"

"Your son's just fine but he got into a fight with one of the other children and needs to be taken home."

With a soft groan, Marcus pulled the phone away just long enough to choke it out of frustration. When he had collected himself enough to respond though, his voice sounded pathetic even to him. "Can't you keep him there until six? I'm going to be very busy today and-"

"Mr. Aquila, you don't understand. Rowan might be okay but the other boy had a sprained wrist and several bruises. Your son can't stay here today, its protocol to send him home."

Protocol was something that Marcus could begrudgingly understand so with an apologetic goodbye and a sheaf of paperwork to fill out tucked under his arm, Marcus left the precinct early and started driving toward the daycare. It really wasn't a surprise that Rowan had acted out. With how much time Marcus needed to dedicate to his work, he wasn't always able to spend as much time with his son as either of them liked, and he knew the boy was suffering from the lack of stability. Still, that didn't make him any less frustrated as he pulled into the driveway of his son's daycare service, the cheery and colorful sign and front door declaring the converted vintage house to be "Misty Hills Daycare."

Rowan and Cottia were waiting in the front sitting room-turned-office. His boy at least had the grace to look ashamed, curled into himself in his chair so far that his tousled hair covered his eyes from view. When Marcus stepped into the room, however, the little boy's head snapped up, big green eyes wide and anxious. Setting his face into a stern glower, the type he would use on one of his subordinate officers if he had done something wrong, Marcus locked gazes with him – Rowan was in trouble and he needed to know it. "Go wait in the front hall while I speak to Cottia."

Rowan shot off of his chair as if it was electrified, eyes locked on the ground and cheeks red from shame as he darted past his father. As soon as he was out of the room, Marcus sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Cottia, I'm sorry for this. I don't know what got into him."

Cottia smiled wryly. "Look Mr. Aquila, Marcus. I've been taking care of Rowan for a while now and I really love him. The kid's a sweetheart and you're literally one of my favorite parents. And I know you work hard and have a busy schedule but Marcus, that kid needs more one-on-one time. This bad behavior that's started up is only going to get worse, and that's not good since he's starting kindergarten this fall, right?"

Marcus nodded. He'd signed Rowan up for kindergarten only last month. It was amazing how fast the kid had grown up.

Tucking a loose strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear, Cottia caught his attention again by reaching into her desk and pulling out a pen and pad of paper. "As much as I hate losing customers, I want to introduce you to the idea of private baby-sitting, at least part-time. I'm writing down the number of a service I know and trust. The people they hire are always fantastic, in fact I used to work for them myself until I opened my own business. I don't know if this is something you might be interested in, but this company provides sitters who come to your house and look after your kid on site. It gives the kid a greater sense of stability and allows the parents a bit of leeway since the individual sitter is paid by the hour and generally has a much more flexible schedule than businesses like mine. My advice is to consider that as an option – if not for your own sanity then for Rowan's benefit."

Marcus took the card and assured Cottia that he would give the idea some thought. And he did, during the entire drive back to their home. His thoughtful silence also had the benefit of making Rowan squirm in the back seat, the young boy still too small to legally sit up front with him. Two minutes from their house, the kid finally snapped and anxiously lunged forward to tug on the sleeve of Marcus' uniform, "Dad?"

Marcus remained silent.

"Dad? It wasn't my fault, Tommy was being mean!"

Still nothing. Marcus was going to make his son sweat it out for a bit. Pulling into their driveway, Marcus turned the car off then got out of the car to open up his son's door. Rowan was staring up at him with green eyes so wide that terrible punishments had to be circling around in his young mind, undoubtedly getting worse and worse at his father's extended silence. By the time they were at the front door, the poor kid had tears in his eyes and Marcus felt his resolve break. As soon as they were inside the house, he stooped down so that he and his son were on eye level. Using his best father/authoritative-cop voice, he spoke low and slow, "Rowan, what you did today was wrong. Fighting never solves anything, it only makes problems worse. Now, because you fought, you're not getting dessert and there's not going to be any TV time tonight."

Marcus might as well have condemned the kid to death by the way that he teared up, full bottom lip trembling. Instead of breaking down into tears though, Rowan struck out at him, tiny fists hitting hard enough to unbalance his crouch. As Marcus toppled over, Rowan bolted for his room, closing it with a terrified slam.

On the floor, Marcus huffed out a deep sigh. Suddenly he didn't have the strength to get up. Groaning, he dug the palms of his hands against his closed eyes – he was trying his best but honestly, it was all just too overwhelming. Work was piling up and his kid was only ever mad or scared of him (he had only seen Rowan smile twice since Amanda had left and that had been over dessert and a new video game, respectively). Even housework was beginning to pile up – dishes needed to be washed, laundry needed to be done and Marcus hadn't vacuumed in what seemed like forever which was, quick frankly, disturbing since he had always been meticulous before. His two story, four bedroom house that had once seemed so luxurious now seemed only cavernous, lonely, and too much for him to take care of on his own.

When he finally had the strength to push himself upright, Marcus stared numbly at the card Cottia had given him. Maybe he should give it a try. The redheaded woman wouldn't have suggested it otherwise and Marcus trusted her judgment. Decision made, Marcus resolved to call the service first thing in the morning. Tonight, he had dinner to make and paperwork to fill out.

When he called the baby-sitting service, Calleva Sitters ("We provide all the help a busy family needs!"), the woman at the other end of the line had been helpful and sympathetic, and had promised to send someone over that afternoon who matched his needs. She went on to assure him that every single one of their sitters received a thorough background check and was screened before the service ever put them on their contact list. Marcus was happy to hear that, but he was also just grateful that it was Saturday. As long as the Chief didn't call, he'd have no trouble meeting his potential sitter. It was also somewhat of a relief when Rowan voluntarily came out of his room to watch Saturday morning cartoons. His son had been sullen with him right up until bedtime last night. He hadn't even wanted a bedtime story, a pre-sleep tradition that they both found some comfort in. Today though, he seemed a little less angry, and even perked up somewhat when Marcus agreed to let him play video games for a while.

The hours passed by quickly and before Marcus knew it there was a knock on his front door. Rowan was at this point in the back yard playing so Marcus glanced back once at his son from the family room window before heading toward the door. What he saw when he opened it was not what he had been expecting.

Marcus had expected a woman of some sort – either a college-aged girl or the Mary Poppins type. What was on his doorstep instead was a young man dressed in too-tight dark wash jeans and a graphic tee that showed off skinny arms and torso, the strap of a messenger bag cutting across the image. A plaid scarf was also wrapped around his neck and a pageboy hat was stuffed over a head full of mousy blond hair and ears too big for his face. His face was as sharp and angular as his body and for a second, those blue-grey eyes met his in such a sharp gaze that Marcus couldn't help but wonder what the hell this guy was doing on his doorstep.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, the young man shuffled awkwardly and then asked in a rough mumble, "Are you Marcus Aquila?"

Marcus nodded.

A little relief struck the young man's face and he stiffly threw out his hand. "I'm Esca McCunoval. From Calleva Sitters?"

The introduction snapped Marcus back to attention and he took a step back after quickly shaking the kid's hand, suddenly hyper-aware of how big and solidly he was built. "Uh, yeah" Marcus shook his head, "Sorry. Come in."

"Not what you were expecting?" Esca had an accent. British. No, Scottish? Marcus couldn't quite tell but he led the younger man into his sitting room and waved to the leather couches.

"Uh, it's not that. I mean, yes, but it's alright." Marcus cursed inwardly as Esca gracefully took a seat. He had no idea why he was getting tongue-tied. The kid had caught him off-guard but he was normally so much more composed. Trying to pull himself together, Marcus sat down and squared his shoulders. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry it was on such short notice."

Esca waved his hand, "It's no big deal. There have been worse cases and it's not as if you need me tonight, right?" His eyes were boring into Marcus' again, suddenly questioning.

"Erm, no. I've got tonight covered."

"Right, then. So, what are you going to need me for?"

It didn't escape Marcus' notice that Esca was approaching this as if he had already been hired. Whether it was because of brazenness or overconfidence, Marcus didn't know, but he found that it didn't bother him so much as it usually did. For whatever reason, this kid wore it well. "My son, Rowan. He's five years old and a few months from kindergarten. For whatever reason, he's not doing well in day-care so when Cottia suggested I call you, I thought I might as well try."

He had Esca's full attention now. "Cottia? She's been watching your son?"

"Yes, for the past few months. My wife and I just got divorced and I've been given full custody of Rowan and I just," Marcus paused, wondering why he was telling Esca his entire life's story but unable to stop, "I can't handle it any more. I can't balance my job and time with my son. I need someone who can watch him later on in the day, someone who will be able to pick him up from school and keep him entertained until I get home."

Esca was frowning now, and when Marcus stopped, the younger man crossed his arms over his knees. Already perched at the edge of the couch, he looked ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. "Here's what I can offer." Suddenly it felt as if Marcus was making a deal with the mafia with the way Esca was talking, "Until your son starts school, I can watch him Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays from about two to seven. Mondays and Wednesdays, I can't help until six, but that's when Cottia closes things up so if you need to I can pick him up from daycare and help out for about an hour. I can even make him dinner if you want on those days and snacks the rest of the time as well."

"That would be a huge help." And it would. Being able to have even those few hours would give Marcus a lot of solid time to get work done. Rowan would have to go back to Misty Hills for the full other two days and the mornings, but promised one-on-one time with his own adult might help Rowan a long way.

"My wage would be $15 an hour."

Marcus nodded his head absently, "Yeah, of course." Despite Esca's sharp gaze, that amount of money would be more than easy to provide for greater peace of mind. But before he got carried away, "Before anything's official, I'm going to need your resume, references, and you're going to have to be compatible with my son."

As if expecting the demands, Esca whipped out two pieces of paper from his side bag and then stood up. "While you're looking at those, why don't I go talk to your kid?"

Leading Esca into the family room, a little more cluttered and homey than the formal sitting room, Marcus set the papers onto his desk then stuck his head out the back door, calling out to the back yard in general. "Rowan, come inside, someone's here that I want you to meet!"

Rowan's brown nest of hair bounced out from inside his play structure and within the minute he was at Marcus' side. He stalled though, as soon as he saw Esca, young gaze wary as he grabbed onto Marcus' pant leg.

Esca though, just smiled and crouched down and suddenly Marcus was looking at a whole different person. Where Esca had been standoffish and sharp before he was now warm and friendly, like a switch had been turned on as soon as he had seen Marcus' son. "Hey, there, Rowan. I'm your new babysitter, Esca."

Marcus fought against rolling his eyes as he felt his son's tiny glare shoot up at him. Then, Rowan's anger turned onto the stranger in the room. "I'm not a baby! And I already go to day care, I don't need you."

Instead of getting mad, Esca's smile only widened. "Come on, we could have a lot of fun together! And you'll still be going to day care most of the time – I'll just be coming to pick you up and hang out at home with you for a while." His voice dropped to a stage whisper, "That way, when your dad finally comes home, he'll have gotten all his work done and he can play with you more. Plus, I can make you whatever you want for dinner. It'll be fantastic."

"Even Mac and Cheese whenever I want? The kind with the shapes?"

"Every single day if you want it."

Rowan remained silent but Marcus knew that his son had been won over. Hell, Marcus had been won over by that soft, accented voice. So long as Esca didn't turn out to have anything bad on his records, Marcus was ready to hire. The kid was good.