Slices of Orange - Chapter 5: Marseillotes
Chapter 5: Marseillotes
The apartment is quiet when Jared returns from his opening shift at the shop. It’s almost two in the afternoon, and Misha is usually cleaning industriously at this time, but no one answers his usual greeting, and worry has him running to their room. He’s somewhat relieved Misha hasn’t vanished, but it’s clear something is very wrong.
Misha has never been a late riser - now, he’s curled up in a fetal position, shivering beneath the thinnest sheet, skin clammy with cold sweat. His llama pajamas are strewn all over the floor, as if carelessly discarded, and the sheets are soaked with perspiration. Jared hurries over, sitting on the bed to lean closer.
“Misha?”
The Chatri stirs, cracks open a bloodshot blue eye. “J-Jare…” His voice is hoarse, his lips parched and cracking.
“Let me get you some water.”
Jared runs to the kitchen, fetches a large glass of water from the dispenser, and rushes back. He props his lover up in his arms to press the rim of the glass to Misha’s lips and tilt it, letting Misha sip the water slowly. The Chatri’s skin is feverishly hot, and Misha leans bonelessly into him while drinking.
“How are you feeling?”
“Awful.” A little less hoarse than before, now that he’s drained the glass.
He sets the glass down on the bedside table. “I need more information than that to get you medicine.”
Misha shakes his head wearily. “I’m not sick.”
“Mish-”
“No.” The Chatri curls into him, starts working on his belt buckle. “I need you. I’m not sick.”
As much as he enjoys sex with Misha, he tries to disentangle himself and lay Misha back down on the bed. “You need to rest.”
“No,” Misha repeats, latching onto him with surprising strength. “I’m not sick. Jared, please.”
“C’mon, don’t b-”
The Chatri grabs his hand and guides it down. Misha is hard, and the brush of his hand has his lover keening and kissing him hungrily. He responds, of course, but something’s different.
“You- You’re in heat?” he gasps, eyes wide, as it finally hits him.
Misha snorts softly - it comes out like a sniffle. “Took you long enough.”
This isn’t something Jared’s had to deal with (the Konu don’t have heat cycles anymore, at least not outside the Order of Bau), but he thinks he gets the idea.
He shucks his clothes as quickly as possible. “Is there anything specific? Or do I just-”
“I need to be completely spent.” Before he can ask, Misha adds, “And I think it’s pheromones or something - it doesn’t work without a partner.”
Oh. “Well, that’s easy enough.”
He grins, and the other makes a sound like ‘hmph’ before he kisses Misha hard. Misha likes kissing, responds with ardor, hips jerking as fingers circle his entrance teasingly, coming with a whimper when one presses in. Laying Misha out on the bed, he mouths his way down a lean torso to lap up the other’s seed. The Chatri’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, trace the shape of his ears - Misha seems a little livelier now.
Dipping his head a little further, he takes Misha all the way in, relaxing his throat, and hollows his cheeks, lets Misha hook both legs over his shoulders to pull him nearer. Misha moans like he’s desperate for it, fingers tightening almost painfully in Jared’s hair, and when Jared swipes his thumb behind his lover’s balls and hums, Misha arches off the bed with a sharp cry as he spills again.
Then he’s pulling Jared up for another kiss, nails- no, claws raking lightly over his back, and he hasn’t seen Misha’s claws since that first day. He catches Misha’s hand, purses his lips around a clawed finger, lets the sharp curved claw graze his tongue as it swirls around the digit. The other meets his eyes with a half-smile, rolls them over to lie atop him and applies his claws to Jared’s nipples. The sensation is new, intense, goes straight down - reminds him he’s been neglected long enough.
“Can you come untouched?” Misha purrs, running his scratchy tongue over the nipple he isn’t worrying with his clawed fingers. He moves his hand to scratch lightly behind white ears, so Jared can speak.
“Ahh, I-I don’t know. I didn’t even know the Chatri still have heat cycles.” Misha tenses, stills, and drops his gaze, and Jared hastily adds, “Uh… I don’t mean that’s a bad thing.”
“Oh no,” Misha agrees quietly. “It sucks. I hate it. I always wished I was like the others who don’t get it anymore.”
“So if the other Chatri d-” Jared gapes at the sinking realization. “You’re from the Order of Bast?”
The history books do, at least, include that the Chatri and Konu have similar religious ideas - those of their race who most retain their ancestral traits are considered Chosen by the Mother Goddess and are quickly taken into the respective Orders.
Misha sighs, flopping down on him. “Out of the bag, I suppose. Yes, I’m the High Priest of the Order of Bast. You see now why I cannot even run away with you, though I want to, more than anything.”
“Th-the High Priest?” he squeaks. “Oh Bau, you can’t be serious.” His voice drops to a hushed whisper. “Mish, what a- Are you out of your mind?!”
The Chatri chuckles wryly. “Yeah. Yeah, the others said so too. They tried everything to keep me from coming here. They just uh… failed.”
“Oh Bau, Mish, if you’re caught, they won’t just kill you. You know that.” He cups the Chatri’s face in his hands. “How could you risk it? You said- You said you knew y- it was too late.”
Clawed hands cover his own. “I told you. I didn’t want to believe it. And I- Well.” Blue eyes slide shut resignedly. “You could get a huge reward for turning me in, you know. They’ll probably even ignore how long you sheltered me before that.”
Jared scowls, tightening his hold. “Are you really saying this now?”
Misha smiles, squeezing his hands. “Just thought I’d remind you that there’s an escape from high treason yet.”
The Konu pulls him into a tight hug. “Don’t be silly, Mish. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll leave the city as soon as it’s warm. I’ll help you, but we need a plan.”
The Chatri snuggles close, nips at floppy ears. “First, I need to get better.” He flicks at a nipple with a claw, rocks his hips into Jared’s. Their cocks slide together, and the spines add an extra layer of delicious friction. “And you need to join in the fun.”
Jared squirms, kisses him on the forehead. “Nngh, whatever would I do without you?”
It feels like the days are too swiftly getting warmer, like the snow is melting too soon. Misha used to love spring, but now all he feels is dread.
Jared tries to spend more and more time with him, and he’s only too happy to make the most of their remaining time, to do everything they can together. And whenever they’re apart, he knits. He knits because it keeps him from focusing on his growing anxiety. He knits and finishes Mark’s sweater, Jensen’s gloves, and then he starts knitting Jared a surprise gift.
Their days are spent mostly in the kitchen, cooking and making candy. Their nights are spent in each other’s arms, talking and making love. And every day, Jared will insist on discussing an escape plan for him. He’s grateful, he really is, but he also resents it - he doesn’t want to leave. He has to, of course, and he knows that, but he doesn’t want to.
So he’s glad when Jared comes in tonight with a recipe book instead.
“Look! I just found this recipe!”
He is shown a full-page close-up photo of small candy cubes that look to be covered in cocoa powder. “Marseillotes,” he reads the header on the opposite page.
Jared slides under the covers next to him. “I’ve been wanting to make it since I tried it in Goschen many years ago. It’s like spiced honey nougat with candied orange peel and almonds covered in cocoa powder.”
He smiles, settling into Jared’s side. “That sounds delicious.”
“It also just gave me an idea. I’d have to buy the spices and nuts I need in Lupiska, and I might as well buy my shop’s supply for the next few months while I’m at it. Then I’d need to make more candied orange peel for the year, and that means driving my truck back to Sobacca to pick some good oranges up.” He turns to Misha and takes his hands, excitement building. “If I hide you in a crate among the crates of nuts and spices, your scent won’t be detected. The drive to Sobacca will give us the excuse we need to cross the border, and if we do it at peak hour, they won’t hold up traffic with a thorough inspection. What do you think?”
Misha thinks it’s possibly the best plan Jared’s come up with so far, and he highly doubts the guards would ever expect a fellow Konu to help a Chatri escape, which makes it very feasible.
And that’s exactly what he hates about it.
A viable plan means he’s run out of excuses to stay.
He looks down to hide the sinking of his heart. “I-I think it could work,” he answers, but his voice cracks, and Jared is pulling him into a fierce hug before he can say another word.
“Oh Bau, Mish, I am so sorry. I don’t- I don’t want you to leave any more than you want to go, all right? Don’t think that.” Familiar fingers rub soothing circles into his scalp. “I just- I’m worried, Mish. I’m so scared that you’ll be caught. I’m terrified of what the government might do to you if you are. And I’m not saying anything’s changed or we need to escape anytime soon. I just want to have a good plan ready for when we do. Don’t be upset?”
He shakes his head. He understands, of course. Jared’s just trying to keep him safe. And Bast knows he’s thankful, but he’s happier pretending these days will never end.
“I’m sorry,” Jared says again, and he only shakes his head more emphatically, not trusting his voice to speak.
They slide down to stretch out on the bed and cling to each other tightly. If only they could remain forever, together just like this, and never have to worry about the world beyond these four walls. If only. Now that Jared’s thought it up, the plan seems so simple, and he wishes the idea had occurred to them over three months ago, so they could spare themselves all this heartbreak.
“I’d hide you forever if I have to, if I could,” Jared adds softly, and he nods.
“I know,” he manages at last and means it. “Thank you. I’d let you if I could.”
They don’t talk about it again, not even after snow has turned to rain, and green has come back to the bare ground and trees. And it’s not till Jensen comes over on his usual Thursday night and asks why Misha is still wearing a hat indoors when it’s so warm now that they acknowledge it’s too dangerous for him to stay any longer, and he really needs to leave.
It’s a quarter past five in the evening when Jared crosses the border. The traffic is massive, thanks to all the people who commute to Chi’an for work from all the nearby small towns, and the inspection of his small truck is, as expected, cursory.
He’s a lot more concerned about how Misha is faring back there under the crates of cinnamon, anise and various nuts. People have ridden in the back of his truck before, and the crates are well-vented, though, so it should be fine.
He drives as quickly as is safe and legal towards his hometown of Sobacca, the City of Orangeries, where he’s to pick up some local oranges for the Marseillotes, before turning off the main road into a small lane through the countryside that leads to Koira, a city about twice as far away from Chi’an as Sobacca.
It’s another hour’s drive before he reaches the forest and stops on the side of the deserted road. Misha said Gatoux is somewhere through this forest, by the river Wafen at the base of Mount Sekhrir, and this is the closest Jared can take him by car.
He quickly kills the engine and swings out of his truck to run to the back, unlock it and climb in. Not even Konu noses can smell anything under the overwhelming aromas of anise and cinnamon, and enough of them are allergic to nuts that few are willing to try.
There are definitely benefits to running a candy store that Jared has never thought of before.
He shifts some crates around to uncover the slightly bigger one he’s packed his stowaway in. It’s not sealed, and he lifts the lid, hoping Misha’s okay.
“Mish? You okay? We’re here.”
The other is covered in sweat, but doesn’t otherwise look too much the worse for wear. Blue eyes blink up at him in the darkness.
“I think I’m all cramped up from lying still for so long. You might have to help me.”
Jared doesn’t hesitate to lift him out of the crate and lean him against the side by the door, adjusting the Chatri’s hood just in case. It’s dark now, but they shouldn’t take any risks. He rearranges some of the crates to give them more space before returning to Misha’s side. The other is moving his limbs slowly, trying to get the circulation back into them.
“Water?”
Misha nods, and he jogs to the front to fetch him a bottle. The other takes it gratefully and drinks, careful not to go too fast, and Jared sits down beside him, rubs his legs to help.
They don’t talk - it’s too painful.
Their time is up, but that’s the last thing they want to think about, so the silence wears on.
At length, it gets to be too much, and they begin speaking at once.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll miss you.”
They freeze.
Then Jared shakes his head, pulling his lover into a hug. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Misha buries his face in Jared’s chest. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“You sure you won’t run away with me? The offer still stands,” Jared says hopefully, and his heart breaks when Misha sobs. If only Misha could be selfish, but that’s not what he fell for.
That doesn’t mean he ever stopped hoping though.
“I want to,” Misha chokes out. “Jared, I-”
“Shh,” he mumbles, tries to soothe. “I know. I’m not going to say it’s okay, but I get it.”
“Maybe one day- No, I don’t know. I’ve hurt you enough. I won’t give you any false hopes. The truth is, you probably won’t see me again.”
“Mish-”
“It’s true. A part of me wants to tell you to wait, to come back here next year to meet me and maybe we can run away together then, but that’s not fair. To either of us.”
Jared cups his cheeks, lifts his tearstained face to look into blue eyes. “It’s not always about being fair, Mish. If you’re sure, I can wait.”
“That’s just it!” Misha’s fists ball in his shirt in frustration. “I’m not sure, Jare! I don’t know how long it’ll take to train the acolytes and choose a successor. And I don’t want you to wait years -years, Jared, not months, not days- because I don’t even know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and four months has just changed my life forever!”
The other’s large hands fall away. “I won’t forget you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No.” Misha’s voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want that.” He presses their foreheads together and squeezes his eyes shut. “Move on, Jare; don’t wait, but don’t forget.”
They wrap their arms around each other - it feels warm, perfect, and he allows himself to imagine what it’d be like to have this for the rest of his days.
They’d build their own house by some river far away, grow or rear their own food, knit or sew their own clothes. They’d have hens and rabbits, maybe a few cows or sheep, and a small vegetable garden. It wouldn’t be too different from life in Gatoux, really. Jared would have to sell his shop, but he’d still make what candies he can and drive off to a town to sell them occasionally, perhaps, and Misha could knit some small pieces to sell with them.
It’d be nice, idyllic… maybe boring without the city’s entertainment, lonely sometimes without their family and friends. But they’d have each other, and it’s not like they’d have much spare time between all the work they’d have to do everyday. And one day, when they get too old to chop firewood or plow the garden or fetch buckets of water from the river without help… No, they probably won’t get that far - life expectancy in Gatoux is only about sixty years.
Even so, ten, twenty years from now, would they still think it was worth giving everything up to be together? They’d love each other still, he believes that much, but would that alone be worth all the sacrifices they would have made? And what if one of them outlives the other? If they run away now, there would be no turning back, and one day, Jared might end up all alone in an empty house in the middle of nowhere.
No, even forgetting the Order, running away would be irresponsible. He can’t do that to Jared.
“I can’t run away with you,” he says softly, shifting to meet Jared’s eyes once more, “but I’ll never forget the hope you’ve shown me. I want to believe that, one day, we won’t have to run and hide. I want teach my people that peace has to start somewhere, that maybe we can’t change others, but we can change ourselves. One day, I hope you can come to Gatoux, and we Chatri will welcome you as an equal, as a friend. So I won’t run away, and I won’t ask you to wait because maybe it’ll take years; maybe it’ll take a lifetime. But someday, if- no, when I send word, I hope you will make the trip, even if it’s decades away. Someday, I hope you will let me show you how much these four months really meant to me.”
There’s a pause, then Jared turns his head, baring his neck. “Then leave me this much.”
Misha bows his head, bites his bottom lip. “Jared, it’ll only hurt more. Don’t make this worse.”
“I know. But I want to know if it’s possible. I want to feel it even if it isn’t. To remind me of this promise. To remind me that there’s hope.”
Oh Bast. “All right.” He takes a steadying breath. “All right.” He tilts his head up and bites.
Jared’s breath hitches, but it doesn’t feel like others have described. It’s intimate, affirming, but he can’t… feel Jared’s presence at the back of his mind like mated pairs say he’s supposed to - they’re different, after all.
“It doesn’t work that way, does it?” he murmurs, licking the small cuts left by his teeth.
“No,” Jared confirms, “But it feels right.” He presses a kiss to Misha’s temple. “I like it.”
Misha pushes back his hood, turning to offer the back of his neck. It’s their promise, after all - no matter what happens, he won’t let Jared do this alone. “My turn.”
Jared doesn’t hesitate, kisses the spot lightly before sinking his teeth in, and as the strength leaves his body, although no mating bond forms, Misha concurs - it feels right.
“Will you stay till daybreak?” Jared asks softly, lapping up what little blood he’s drawn.
“Of course.” Misha smiles because goodbye is painful enough as it is. “This kinda makes tonight our wedding night, doesn’t it?”
His mate’s response is halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
He curls into Jared, laces their fingers. “I wish it could be more of a celebration.”
He hears the other swallow thickly, feels the shuddering breath. “I uh… I made your favourite butterscotch candy and oatmeal ginger cookies in case you get hungry on your walk back, but we could probably have the candy now.”
“Let’s,” he agrees. “It’s the best we can do without a bottle of wine.”
As Jared goes to get it from the front, he pulls out the towels Jared used to pad his crate and folds them into makeshift pillows, so they can both rest their heads. When Jared returns with the bag of food, he holds out his arms, and his mate lies down beside him. They kiss, first slow and heartfelt, then fast and desperate - a vow and a farewell.
“Butterscotch?” Jared offers when they part for air, holding out the bag.
“Mm.” He holds a piece between his teeth. “Together.”
Jared obliges, biting off half and capturing his lips once more. Misha presses close, pushes fabric out of the way to feel skin on skin, and the food is all but forgotten.
When dawn breaks, Misha doesn’t wake Jared - he can’t bear to say another goodbye. He can’t even bear to look back as he walks into the forest.
Instead, he leaves his farewell gift beside Jared in the truck - a red cushion cover with a white dog and an orange cat seated side by side over the words “I love you.”
He’s going home, finally, but it really feels like he’s leaving it instead.
~ Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue ~