Slices of Orange - Chapter 4: Orange and Cashew Butterscotch
Chapter 4: Orange and Cashew Butterscotch
Misha looks into the fridge balefully. He needs more eggs, milk and some fresh herbs for dinner, but Jared won’t be home for a while. He has the keys and some money, and the grocery store they went to last time isn’t far, but…
He paces, anxious.
Jared keeps telling him he doesn’t need permission or company to go out, that he’s not a prisoner in this house, but he worries people will notice he’s not like them, that he will be caught and held hostage to force his people’s surrender. The truth is, he knows he doesn’t act much different with or without Jared, but having the Konu around makes him feel like he’s blending in better somehow, makes him feel safe, and isn’t that ironic?
This is pathetic, he decides, pulling on a beanie and spraying on a cloud of perfume to mask his scent before donning a thick fur-lined hooded overcoat. He grabs the keys and cash and puts on his boots. He absolutely can manage getting a few groceries by himself.
He walks briskly to the grocery store, consciously avoids looking around to see if people are staring or he’s being followed. It’s freezing out -everything’s covered in a layer of ice and snow- so that probably isn’t abnormal, but he still grabs what he needs and goes quickly to pay, eager to get the entire affair done as swiftly as possible.
As he’s heading back to the apartment, he hears some commotion in an alley, and it takes all his self-control not to start running for a hiding place. Silently, he chides himself. He doesn’t have to be so jumpy - it doesn’t even concern him. He’s about to keep walking when he hears a voice.
“Please.” It sounds like an elderly lady pleading for mercy. “Please don’t do this,” she sobs. “I have- I have children, and-”
“Shut up!” a man yells, then there’s a crash. “Shut up if you know what’s good for you, bitch!!”
And Misha can’t explain how or why he’s suddenly in the alley, staring down the burly Konu towering over the lady huddled by the trash cans and shouting, “Stop! Why are you doing this?!”
The man sneers, advancing on the old woman. "If she'd just handed me her wallet when I asked nicely-"
"No! I won’t let you hurt her!" Misha gets between them and shoves the man away. "She already has so little, and you'd take it from her and her children! How could you?! You have no right!"
Behind him, the lady seizes her chance to run away, and he's at once relieved and terrified. What if his hat falls off and they find out he's Chatri? The thug shoves him out of the way into the wall, and seeing that his first target is too far, whirls on him.
"Fine then," he snarls, baring rotting teeth (a few missing). "Since I can't have hers, I'll just help myself to yours." He lifts Misha by the collar and starts searching the Chatri's pockets. Misha kicks him in the chest, landing lightly on his feet, and runs. "You fucking mutt! Get back here!" The man lunges at Misha's leg, and Misha breaks his fall with his arms, kicks back at his assailant as hard as he can.
"No! Let me go! Get away from me!"
"Hey." It's a new voice, deep, and Misha looks up to see a tall man with spiky blond hair, short floppy light brown ears and emerald eyes. He's gorgeous, could be a model, and wearing a fierce expression on his handsome face. "Leave him alone. The cops are on their way."
The brute growls, looking from Misha to the newcomer and back again. “Hmph. The next time I see you…” He scampers off, and the blond stranger pulls Misha to his feet.
“You okay?”
Misha nods quickly, grabs his fallen bags and turns to leave. “Thank you.”
“Hey, wait!”
He swallows his alarm, forces himself not to run and schools the panic off his face as he looks back. The stranger can’t know. Jared said no Chatri had been seen here in his lifetime. Only certain government agencies would be able to identify one without seeing the feline ears.
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you… Won’t you come with me to the cops? Aren’t you going to report the guy?”
He shakes his head hurriedly. No police, no. “I didn’t get a very good look at him - too busy trying to run. You saw him better. You should handle the report.”
“But without a victim or a perpetrator and only one witness, it’s barely even a case!”
Ugh. Bast, no, but he can’t. If this were Chatri territory, he’d see the thug prosecuted personally, but here, he can’t. He hates this, the constant fear and helplessness, the senseless divide.
“No.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t- I only ran in because he was threatening an old lady. Didn’t you see her run out? That’s the victim you need. I’m just- I’m just a witness myself, and not a good one either. I-I need to go.” He all but runs towards the apartment.
“Wait! Wait, please!”
“Jen!”
Misha freezes. It’s Jared. It must be.
“Hey man, I didn’t know you chased d- Misha?”
Oh, thank Bast, it is. He turns around just in time to see Jared give the blond a friendly one-armed hug. They’re close then. His heart sinks. This could get complicated.
“Wait, you know him?”
“Yeah.” Jared holds out his hand, and Misha takes it without really thinking. “Misha kinda… lives with me right now. Misha, this is my best friend, Jensen. We’re from the same hometown.”
“Oh.” Best friend. Oh no. He nods with a small smile. “Um. Hi.” Surely Jared wouldn’t let Jensen drag him along to the police station. Neither of them can afford to be found out. Still, he can’t help this sinking feeling.
“What? Wait, he lives with you, and you never told me?! What kind of best friend are you?!”
“Well, he uh… It hasn’t been long.” Jared pulls Misha close, and Misha goes willingly, burying his face in the Konu’s neck. Jared smells protective and confident - it’s calming, reassuring, and Misha leans on him a little. “Remember the someone in Lupiska?”
“Oh,” Jensen says slowly, crossing his arms. “So you were holding out on me! He really is someone!”
“No!”
Misha looks up as Jared flails.
“What do you mean, no? That, right there, is how you hold a mate.”
“I mean, no, I wasn’t trying to hide it!” Jared’s gone red all over. “We haven’t- We’ve only just-” He stops himself. “I-I mean-”
“So you were just openly keeping our hot sex a secret?” Misha teases, grinning. The idea puts a lightness in his heart. That Jared can cherish this gives him hope.
Once, this would have been something purely biological - mates were chosen mostly by scent and season, and a twist of genes decided your place in society. He’s glad they’ve mostly evolved out of some of their ancestors’ more inconvenient traits (like tails), but the few who have retained those traits are revered now as being closest to their primordial gods, the Konu to the canine goddess, Bau, and the Chatri to their divine mother, Bast. He supposes it’s mollifying to be prized for suffering the biological setbacks, if a little strange.
“Hey,” Jared protests, squeezing his waist reproachfully. “Whose side are you on?”
“You’ve only just…?” Jensen raises an eyebrow. “I demand details, JT. I see you got off easy the last time! Wait till I tell Rob, Ty and Chad.”
“What? No, no, n- Jen!”
“Hey, wait a minute.” Jensen pauses as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “That can wait. Right now, you need to get Misha to come to the police with me. We’ve got a crime to report.”
“No,” the Chatri corrects, quiet but firm. “You do.”
“A crime?” Blue-green eyes slide from Jensen to Misha. “What crime?”
“Some thug tried to mug some old lady and your boyfriend here.”
Immediately, Jared is patting him down, checking for injuries. “Oh Bau, are you okay?”
Misha nods, clinging to Jared. “I’m fine. I told you he only turned on me after I helped the old lady, and I didn’t get a good look at his face. He’s missing a few rotting teeth, that’s all I know.”
Jensen runs a hand through his hair. “Every little bit helps, Misha. I don’t want him to get away with it and hurt more people.”
“M-me neither.” He wants to go, he does, but the police would want pictures and papers, and he can’t. Under Jared’s jacket, his claws are digging into his lover’s skin. He doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt, but he can’t afford to die here - his people need him.
“Th-”
“C’mon, Jen, he’s told you what he knows,” Jared interrupts, hugging him tightly. “Don’t give him a hard time? His mom just passed away. He came here because he needed the space.”
“Bau, that’s rough.” Jensen wipes a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, man. I just- Well.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I can’t- I can’t do police again, okay? They- They couldn’t find Momma until she turned up dead in a ditch, and then it was just days and days of police making it sound like it was all her fault she- I can’t, all right?” A half-truth as good as any.
“What? That’s awful. How can they say it’s the victim’s fault?! I can’t believe they still do that.”
And Misha can’t help wondering if Jensen would feel the same if he knew that Momma was Chatri, that her only fault was being the wrong species. He sighs softly. Perhaps Jensen would sympathize regardless. Jared’s best friend can’t be so bad. Maybe.
“Hey, why don’t we get dinner tonight before Rob’s?” Jensen suggests brightly. “We haven’t been to Mark’s in a while. All three of us. How ‘bout it? It’s on me.”
Jared turns to Misha. “Mish? You don’t have to, but Mark does make a mean seafood stew.”
“Seafood stew?” It’s tempting, and it’s not like they haven’t eaten out before. Besides, Jensen is probably trying to make up for earlier. “O-okay.”
Jared and Jensen light up in unison.
Misha thinks of his best friends back home, of Darius, Vicky, Matt and Sebastian. They must be sick with worry. He should have been back before first snow. Now it is the height of winter, and he won’t even start heading back till spring. He misses them, the connection and understanding they shared, so much like the one Jared seems to share with Jensen.
“Seven then? After I’ve taken care of that report?”
Jared nods. “Meet you there?”
“Yeah.”
They part with a clap to the shoulder, and Jared walks Misha home in silence. When they finally get back to the apartment, Misha is pleasantly surprised to find that only three of the twelve eggs he bought have broken in the earlier scuffle. As he’s rinsing the raw egg off the rest of his purchases, he notices the scrapes on his arms, probably from when he’d broken his fall earlier. Just then, Jared wraps him in a tight hug from behind and notices them too.
“Oh Mish,” he sighs, gently washing the raw skin. “Let me get a towel and some cream.”
“Jared, it’s nothing. I’m fine.” He’s had worse back home and never did anything about it.
Jared returns with his softest, fluffiest towel anyway, and leads Misha to the sofa. Pulling the Chatri into his lap, he pats scraped arms dry, then fishes a small tube of antiseptic cream out of his pocket and begins applying the cream to the angry red skin with a featherlight touch. Misha can’t help smiling at the other’s concern over a few scrapes as he holds out his arms and keeps them still. This could be everything he’ll ever need.
“I love you,” Jared says suddenly, quiet but emphatic, as he dabs cream onto Misha’s elbows.
Misha blinks, then chuckles. “I’m not going to die over a few scratches, you know.”
“No, I mean… I’m- You didn’t have to put yourself at risk to save a stranger, one of us even.”
“I was terrified,” he admits softly, looking down at the scrapes. “I don’t know why, but I couldn’t ignore it. I knew the risks. If he’d just knocked off my hat… But I couldn’t just let him rob her.”
“That’s because you’re kind, Mish. And I’m so proud of you, you know? So many people would have just walked away. So few are willing to get in trouble for a good cause anymore. And it sucks that you couldn’t go to the police like you wanted. Why does it have to matter whether we’re Konu or Chatri? Are we really that different? I-I just don’t understand.”
Oh, if only the rest of their peoples felt the same way! He leans back into Jared’s warmth, letting the Konu cradle him close. “You know, I’m glad you came when you did,” he adds, huffing a laugh. “I was starting to think Jensen would forcibly drag me to the police with him.”
Jared lets out a bark of laughter. “C’mon now, Jen isn’t that bad.”
“He was very forceful!”
“Yes, all right, he’s got a strong personality. What he stands for, he fights for and he stands by. And you couldn’t ask for a better friend or brother - Jen will never let you down. And when you go home in spring, I know he’ll be the one carrying me home from Rob’s, putting me up on his couch and otherwise making sure I hold it together.”
Misha sighs, squeezing Jared’s hand. “I’m sorry.” He tilts his head to press a kiss to Jared’s jawline. “That’s why I didn’t want us to-”
The Konu shakes his head emphatically. “No. I’m glad you’re with me, Mish. I just- I wish our people didn’t kill each other on sight.” He slumps, morose. “Then you wouldn’t have to go, and I could have this amazing and beautiful person with me forever.”
Forever, he says, like he knows what that means, like even a year isn’t already a miracle.
But Jared is right. He doesn’t regret this. He wishes he could spare Jared the pain, but even that will be a cherished memory - that will be what hope feels like, hope that centuries of enmity and hatred could one day come to an end. He loves. He has to believe.
“Amazing?” Misha turns with a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. He loops his arms around his lover’s neck, straddling muscular thighs. “Hey, I just chased a thug away. You’re sheltering a fugitive here. I think you get more points.”
Jared blushes and ducks his head. “Th-that’s different. I was trying to get into your pants.”
Leaning in, the Chatri giggles as warm hands slide into his back pockets for a light squeeze, affectionate and a little possessive. “Well, is it worth it? Is the sex to die for?”
“Oh yes.” Jared steals a kiss. “Everything is worth it. I’m glad you stayed.”
“I’m glad I stayed too,” Misha agrees, working at the fastenings on Jared’s shirt. “I would have spent many nights fantasizing about getting into your pants if I hadn’t, and none of them would be even close to the reality.”
“Oh Bau,” the other gasps, pressing him close. “Would you touch yourself?”
“Bast, yes,” he breathes, moving on to the Konu’s belt buckle. “Why don’t I show you how?”
Di Pellegrino is a cosy restaurant two blocks from Jared’s shop, the owner a buff blond of Jensen’s height. Mark has black high-set ears in nearly perfect upright triangles. Along with his height, build and fierce-looking face, they cut an imposing presence, which might be why the restaurant isn’t packed with customers despite the phenomenal food and generous portions. It’s a shame - the scary exterior belies the friendliest host and impeccable service.
The walls and floors are terracotta tiles with a stucco ceiling, all the furniture is dark-stained wood, and the hearty fare is served in green dishes on red and white checkered tablecloths. Despite the icy weather, the place exudes a homely warmth, and Mark is only too happy to serve up a second helping of his delicious seafood stew.
Misha thinks he might be hooked.
“So.” Jensen digs into his pasta. “Give me the lowdown. How’d you guys meet? What do you do? And you’re telling me everything, Jared. Everything, you hear me?”
“He kidnapped me,” Misha pipes up brightly.
“I picked him up off the streets and tied him up in my bedroom for a month,” Jared agrees with a wink, taking a big bite of his cheeseburger.
“And I thought he was some sort of psycho, but it turns out he just wanted to feed me candy.”
“And have sex.”
“And have sex.” Misha giggles, munching on some garlic bread. “It’s good, wholesome sex.”
Jared nods. “No weird herbs or toys or anything.”
“He’s really good with his tongue and fingers - goes straight for the goal.”
Jensen points at them, shaking his head. “This is not cool, guys.”
Jared points back. “Hey, you wanted details.”
“Yeah, I call bullshit. Stop making shit up.”
“Mm-mm.” Misha intones very seriously. “You have no idea how much of this is true.”
“Bzzt, it’s all real.” Jared laughs, pulls his lover close. “Mostly.”
“Yes.” Misha turns, grinning widely. “There might have been some weird herbs involved.”
“Hey!” Jared bops his nose against Misha’s in protest. “That was an accident!”
“An accident?” Jensen arches an eyebrow.
“But we liked the result.” They nod at each other. “We really liked the result.”
Then Jared gropes Misha, and the other smacks his hand with a mock scowl.
“Ow!” He frowns, cradling his sore hand. “Mean old man.”
But Misha takes his hand and kisses it better with a sunny smile, and the frown melts away.
“Get a room, you two.” Jensen nudges Jared’s foot under the table with a chuckle, and Jared nudges back. “We’ve got kids in this joint.”
“If it’s rooms you want, we’ve got a couple in the back,” Mark offers, sauntering over.
Jensen leans back. “You make that offer to everyone that gets a little handsy in here, MP?”
“Nope.” The proprietor smooths out his mustache. “Only to Padalecki over here because he never takes me up on it.”
“Ouch.”
“Let’s do it, Jare,” Misha chimes in excitedly. “Let’s do it, c’mon.”
Blue-green eyes glint. “What, I didn’t tire you out enough this afternoon?”
“Whoa, man.” Jensen holds his hands up. “Too much information coming.”
“But you wanted de~tails~” Misha whines, snuggling into Jared.
Mark pats Jensen on the shoulder. “Dessert’s on the house while you wait, J.”
“Ooh, dessert!” Jared lights up, the room forgotten. “What’s for dessert?”
“Today, we’ve got our flourless chocolate cake, zuccotto, panna cotta, and of course, tiramisu, all made in house as always.”
“Ooh! Zuccotto!” He does a double fist pump. “I love that! I’ll take a zuccotto.”
“I’ve been abandoned for cake,” Misha sighs. “I’ll take a panna cotta then.”
Mark shrugs. “Them’s the breaks, man. Told you he never takes me up on it.”
Jared wraps an arm around Misha’s waist and presses a kiss to his temple through the navy blue beanie. “I’ll make it up to you later? I can keep you up all night this time.”
“I’ll get the zuccotto as well,” Jensen interrupts firmly, kicking Jared lightly in the shins.
Jared sticks his tongue out as Mark walks off with their dessert order and starts working on the rest of his fries.
“You still haven’t told me what Misha does,” he reminds pointedly.
“Oh, he d-”
“I used to work in a strip club,” Misha interjects smoothly, wiping his lips on his napkin as he finishes the last spoonful of stew.
“I can’t take him anywhere.” Jared shakes his head. “I cannot take him anywhere.”
“What.” Jensen is just staring at them now, likely trying to figure out where truth ended and trolling began, but Misha doesn’t think he’ll have any luck.
“Why do I even bother making you look respectable if you’re going to tell everyone that?”
“You were trying? I hadn’t noticed,” Misha replies airily.
Green eyes blink slowly. “In Lupiska?”
“Nuh-uh, I won’t tell you where, since Jared’s trying to make me look respectable.” He giggles.
“He does deliveries.” Jared gives Misha a dirty Look.
“What, like the pizza man?” Jensen deadpans, and Jared cracks up.
“No, but that was after I quit the strip club.”
Jensen laughs, throwing a suggestive glance Misha’s way. “So are you looking to work in a strip club here too? I bet Rob knows people.”
“So do I, if you need more options,” Mark adds as he brings them their desserts.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Jared presses Misha to him in a tight hug. “He’s mine. All mine. My Misha. He’ll be my househusband and cook and clean and knit sweaters.”
“I’m thinking I could sell some sweaters.”
“Yeah, like these!” He shows off the sweaters they are wearing, adjusting their matching beanies so they sit perfectly. Misha’s sweater is orange with a navy blue M over the heart while Jared’s is navy blue with an orange J over the heart. They have matching criss-cross patterns up the side, and the V-neck fits perfectly over a collared shirt.
“You mean, you made these? Wow.” Jensen reaches over to feel the wool, impressed. “That’s some amazing talent.”
Mark pats Jared’s shoulder, running his fingers over the needlework. “It’s like something you’d buy in a designer store. Can I order one?”
Misha beams. “Of course! Oh, I didn’t bring my measuring tape. Hmm…” He taps his chin. “Ah, Jared, could you stand shoulder to shoulder with him for a sec?”
Jared rises and obligingly bends his knees to match his shoulder level to Mark’s. Jensen smothers a laugh as Mark scowls, but neither remark as Misha notes the relative measurements he needs. Misha nods when he’s done, and Jared returns to his seat and dessert.
“What color would you like the sweater?”
“Black.”
“Same design?”
“Sure.”
“Great! I’ll get it to you as soon as I am able.”
“How much for it?”
Misha blinks, then taps his chin, pensive. “Hmm… About a hundred…?”
“Great. How’s dessert?”
Jared is quick to raise both hands in the air. “I love it!”
Mark smiles at that, and all at once, it makes him look less scary but more creepy. The poor man can’t win. Jared finishes the rest of his zuccotto, scooping up the dredges of ice cream on the plate, then excuses himself to the restroom as Mark takes his plate away, leaving Jensen and Misha to finish their dessert in silence.
Jensen clears his throat. “Hey.”
Blue eyes flick up. Jared’s absence makes Misha nervous even with the beanie masking the shape of his ears. The insecurity feels alien - he’s not used to caring what others think, but back home, they wouldn’t get him killed.
“Sorry about earlier.”
He shakes his head. “I understand where you were coming from. How did the report go?”
“Good.” The blond grins. “Turns out the thug has a record, and a few other people have reported him already, so they’re going to bust him and lock him up soon, no problem.”
Misha nods. “I’m glad.”
“So uh…” Jensen scratches the back of his head. “I still don’t know how much of what I’ve heard today is true. Jared likes messing with people, and it looks like he’s found a match in you, eh? In more ways than one?” When Misha smiles, he continues, “But he seems really happy with you, and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah,” the Chatri agrees quietly. “He makes me very happy too. I’ve never had anyone love me as an equal before, and I never expected to find it here.”
“Good.” The Konu nods, setting his dessert spoon down. “Look, all I’m asking is, just don’t hurt him, all right? He’s a big guy, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s as sweet as all that candy he makes. If he loves you now, he’ll love you ten, twenty, fifty years from now, and I- He’s like a little brother to me, you know? I just want to see him happy.”
Before Misha can answer, Jared has skipped his way back to the table, and all he can do is force a smile and nod through the recurring guilt as his lover cuddles him cheerfully.
He knows, he knows, all that Jensen has said about Jared is true, and he doesn’t want to hurt Jared any more than Jensen wants to see his best friend hurt. And yet… What can he do now to spare Jared the inevitable pain?
If only the world were a much different place.
Misha scatters candied orange peel and toasted cashews onto an extra large foil-lined baking pan, lost in thought. Jared dropped him off at the apartment before heading with Jensen to their friend’s bar for their weekly night out, and Jensen seemed to approve of his opting to head back instead. He hopes Jared doesn’t get too drunk, or at least that he isn’t a talkative drunk. Truth be told, he’d love to see drunk Jared (it promises to be entertaining), but there could be dangerous consequences now.
Nibbling on some orange peel as he works, Misha melts four pounds of salted butter in a large pot. Jared makes the best candied orange peel - never too sweet and flavored with brandy and spices for an extra kick. Clipping on the candy thermometer, he carefully stirs in the muscovado sugar and tastes the mixture when it’s fully dissolved, adjusting with some molasses and fleur de sel till he thinks it’s the perfect balance of sweet and salty. When the thermometer reads 270, he turns the stove off and pours the creamy brown mixture into the well-sprayed pan.
He has seen Jared make this before, and it’s quite possibly his favourite out of all the fabulous homemade candy the confectioner has ever whipped up.
He’s just finished washing the pot when he gets his wish - Jared stumbles in, red in the face and giggly. The Konu does manage to lock the door behind him (after a slurred goodbye to Jensen), however, so perhaps he’s not too wasted.
“Mi~sha~” the other mumbles, peppering the Chatri’s face with sloppy kisses and sliding his hands under clothes to feel up bare skin as Misha guides him into their now shared bedroom - nope, quite utterly gone. “Mi~sha~” He squeezes Misha’s ass as they reach the bed, and the smaller man tries valiantly to divest him of some outerwear and make sure he ends up on the bed instead of the floor. “My Mi~sha~”
Overbalancing, they end up falling haphazardly onto the bed in a sprawl of limbs. “Oof.”
“Mi~sha~” Jared shifts, but only enough so his head is pillowed on Misha’s belly, and Misha sighs in longsuffering resignation as Jared curls up and settles in, a stupidly happy smile on his sleeping face. “Mi~sha~” The Konu’s arms slip loosely around his leg, finding one hand and lacing their fingers. “I love my Misha~”
Misha tangles the fingers of his free hand in Jared’s luxurious hair and lies still, wishing he’d never have to leave. The sight of Jared’s smitten contentment fills his heart to bursting, and it’s hard to breathe. Hope, he tells himself. This is hope for their people.
But more than that, he wants forever.
~ Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue ~