March 14th 44 B.C.
"We can't interfer with Julius Caesar's assassination, Marty!" Doc warned as he threw his jacket into the front trunk.
"I don't want to interfer, Doc, I just want to watch it," Marty replied while peaking carefully around the bushes they had hid the time machine in. He could hear Doc rummage around the period clothing suitcase behind him. Marty still had no idea how all that junk even fit in the new car. Since 'car' was a pretty generous designation for that thing in his opinion. With the Delorean destroyed, Doc had decided to built a new flux capacitor into an VW Beetle of all vehicles. An extremely yellow VW Beetle.
Marty had laughed his ass off, when Doc showed up with it a fortnight ago in front of the youth hostel in West-Berlin he stayed in. Dressed in an equally ugly yellow Hawaii shirt and with his old beige fedora on top of his head. I love that man. he had thought. Yes, even like that. Damn.
Doc had recovered pretty fast from their Old West adventure and his infatuation with Ms. Clayton. He rethought his 'time travel is to painful' stance and went to work almost as soon as he and Marty got back to 1985 (and nearly run over by a train). Marty had to admit that he wasn't exactly sad that that romance hadn't worked out. Or that Jennifer had decided - accident avoided or not - even a potential future Chapel O'Love wedding was too much of a risk to take and dumped him shortly after New Year's Day. He felt a bit guilty about the former though. Doc and Clara had been cute together, but it had made him feel really uncomfortable and neglected. Face it, you were jealous McFly. It was pretty mind-boggling, really. But then what wasn't in the last year?
His parents had gifted him a summer trip through Europe for his graduation and birthday, which had blown him away. Something like that would have been absolutely unthinkable before he had interfered with the timeline. He had visited Dublin and London first then Paris and Berlin. It had all been very exciting, but it got even better when Doc showed up. Although at first Marty was puzzled, when the time circuits where set to November 9th 1989 by a very psyched Emmett. What exciting thing could happen just a bit over three years in the future? Witnessing the fall of the Berlin Wall - early and up front- had been pretty spectacular. You can say about their humor what you want, but the Germans sure knew how to party.
Doc had learned from their predicament in 1885 and somehow managed to cut the speed requirement for time travel in half from 88 miles per hour to 44 miles per hour. With no hover engine (that future had definitely ceased to exist) and with roads not always available anywhere in time, it was for the best. Plus the time machine was a fucking VW Beetle now. That thing would probably disintegrate at 88 miles per hour.
There was still the problem of the plutonium for the flux capacitor of course, and Marty would rather not think how Doc got that through customs. Their road trip together down to Rome had been great fun though, and he realized how much he had missed Doc's company in the few weeks he had traveled alone. They had stopped for a weekend in Vienna and visited the cathedral and the central cemetery with its famous tombs. Venice wasn't quite what Marty had expected, but still had a Honeymoon feeling to it, with its Gondola trips and other tourist traps. Maybe that was a sign that he was losing it, but he could swear that Doc was treating him and looking at him differently than before too.
Now this excursion to before the Common Era wasn't exactly planned, but then, what ever was with them?
"Here Marty, try this," Doc handed him a tunic and held another one up for himself. Good thing they were prepared for any eventuality. Marty would rather not have to stoop to street robbery in a time, when crucification was a common punishment.
"But Doc, how is this even going to work? I don't exactly speak Latin?" he asked.
Emmett looked embarrassed. "Mine is probably not much better. It's called a dead language after all," he said. "I guess we'll have to keep communications with the natives to a minimum. You better don't talk at all. We'll just pretend you are my slave."
"Your slave, Doc?" Marty asked curiously.
"Heavy, I know," Doc commented and handed him a leather band that was a bit to wide and long for a bracelet.
"Was going to say kinky," Marty replied and watched in delight as his companion blushed at that. "What's that, Doc?" he asked, holding the leather band up.
"A slave collar."
"A slave collar?" Marty raised an eyebrow. "Man, you've really thought of everything, huh?"
"Um ... you don't have to ... I mean, it's just for authencity ... if it's too uncomfortable ..." Emmett stammered.
"Nah it's all right," Marty assured, put the collar on, and took off his t-shirt. "I guess this wouldn't fly as a slave brand anyway, huh Doc?" he asked showing off his right upper arm. It sported a black and white tatoo of the courthouse clock. Its arms at 10.04 exactly.
"Marty, when did you have that one done?" Doc asked surprised, staring at his young friends biceps.
"On my birthday Doc," Marty answered. "Mom wouldn't let me have one before I turn eighteen," he rolled his eyes. "You like it?"
"It's a very nice- design," Doc commented with an awkward cough.
Good. So it wasn't just his teenage hormones going of the deep end, Marty thought, as he watched Doc change into his tunic maybe a bit too intently.
"We'll need to go commando I'm afraid," Doc remarked and stripped of his boxers from under the tunic, "there is no underwear in Ancient Rome. And we need names," he pointed out after Marty had changed too.
"How about Monty Phyton?" Marty joked.
„Very funny Marty, and I'm Bigus Dickus.“
Are you Doc? Are you really? I wouldn't mind to find out, Marty thought and started to grin.
Emmett, who could probably tell where that grin came from, shook his head and added hastily: "You are Marcus and I'm Antonius. If someone tries to talk to you just look at me and say 'Certe Dominus'."
"What does that mean Doc?" Marty asked.
"It means 'Yes, Sir', basically," Doc explained.
"Oh, shut up."
"Wow, this is kinda creepy Doc," Marty stared in awe at the street before them. The 'Via Appia'. They had visited some of the old parts just the other day or rather ...
"Amazing, isn't it?" Doc looked impressed himself. "Over two thousend years and it looks almost exactly the same."
Ceasar would be killed the next day at the Theatre of Pompey, where the Senate was in session. Seeing the actual stabbing was probably a bit too much to be asked for, but maybe they could at least witness something of the tumultuous aftermath. On their way further into the city they met a guardsman that asked Doc something. Marty couldn't remember any Roman ranks except 'Centurio', but that would be a Captain so that wasn't quite it. Anyway, two millenia earlier and Doc was still pretty much just bribing the cops, thank God for his extensive collection of (fake) currency.
Later while Doc was busy with his compass and historic map a young woman came up to them. This was really weird. There seemed to be so much distance to ancient times when you read and learned about them in the history books, but that girl, she looked so modern to him. Even with her tunic and strange hair style and to Marty unintelligible language. He had gotten used to that last thing during his time on continental Europe already.
"She was propositioning me ..." Doc explained after she had turned away from them, not before winking at Marty invitingly.
Oh, she was a prostitute, Marty thought. She wouldn't just talk to some strangers otherwise, he guessed.
"... but I told her I was spoken for." There was that awkward cough again.
Damn right you are, Marty thought possessively.
"She invited us to spent some coin at the feast at her brothel this evening though and I'm considering ..." Doc looked ruminatively. "At least it would get us of the streets for the night, and I doubt anybody there is going to pay much attention to us except for our money."
"You mean I'm going to see one of those infamous Roman orgies?" Marty asked big eyed.
"Now don't get too excited, Marty," Doc scoffed, shaking his head again. "There will probably be much less sexual relations and much more overeating and puking than would be anticipated."
They decided to follow the directions of the prostitute though, and after Doc negotiated a fee of admittance they were let into richly decorated rooms. They had those mosaics on the walls and floors, Marty had seen in documentaries on tv. There where cots and couches all over the place and a large buffet and jugs of wine in the middle of the big hall.
Doc had been right. They could sit down in one of the corners of the hall and nobody bothered with them, except for some girls bringing them food and drink for gratuities.
Only once one of the other guests came over and approached Doc. Marty could tell Doc didn't like what he wanted and he soon figured out, that the other man probably had asked Doc if Marty was for 'share'. Doc obviously told him right off, drawing Marty closer to his body, which made his heart beat faster and cuddle up to his 'Dominus' cheerfully.
Eventually they were really stuffed from all the food. Not quite puking level but very full indeed. They still had some grapes on a plate though and Marty put Doc's head in his lap and started to feed them to him, while they watched some of the girls dance for the guests. First with his fingers, which he let linger on Doc's lips more than was strictly neccessary, then with his mouth, working his way ever so close to a kiss. At last he took heart and tried a little probing with his tongue.
"Marty!“ Doc sighed into his mouth. „I'm not going to pretend that our relationship has not been heading in that direction for a while now, but I still have to add for consideration that I'm almost 66 years old and ... actually, thinking of the time spent in 1885 I'm probably closer to ..." he rambled and Marty rolled his eyes "... I don't give a shit." With that he kissed Emmett again, if only to make him shut up. This time the kiss was reciprocated and intensified to Marty's great pleasure.
"You're enjoying this situation way to much Marty," Doc mumbled dazed, when they let up for air.
"Certe Dominus." Marty was enjoying this alright. He sneaked his right hand under Doc's tunic up his thigh and - yeah - that seemed big enough for him.
Doc took in a sharp breath. "Stop that right now young man, or suffer the consequences," he hissed.
"Consequences? What kind of consequences could that be? Getting fucked in an uncomfortabel place maybe. Like the back of a Volkswagen?" Marty whispered and waggled his eyebrows.