Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctuary ❯ I'll Tell You If You Promise ( Chapter 13 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Gateau goes on the offensive....
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.02.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 219 | Status: Completed
Gateau goes on the offensive....
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.02.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 219 | Status: Completed
Author’s Notes: Well, I've been thinking about why my Tira is so OOC, and this is kind of how it works in my mind, and hence in the story too: when she was with Carrot, she would have been a domestic version of normal-Tira, but now, she's more like Sorcerer Hunter Tira. So, yeah, that's how it is...if that's okay with you all.
Sanctuary
Chapter Thirteen: I'll Tell You If You Promise
Gateau had finally settled into sleep around five and was late arising the next morning. He expected Marron to join him at lunch, but found the other still in bed and not quite recovered. It would be more than a week before he was quite himself again. On the third day, as Marron laid on the sofa, Gateau approached him once more about seeing a doctor.
"Just a quick check. You're not afraid are you?"
His attempt at levity was completely overlooked. "The doctor will have nothing to tell me that I don't already know."
"Well, isn't there some medicine or something you can get? I know you're better, but"
"There's no medicine for AIDS, Gateau," Marron snapped at him. Gateau was quick to withdraw the hand he had been resting on the other's shoulder. He stepped from the room, not so shocked at the response to his pestering, but overwhelmed by the idea that his mind had not connected the two things sooner.
The moment to Gateau was a wake up call. Though Marron had been hinting at it all along, Gateau realized for himself that he really had little to no idea of what to expect. He had heard the warnings about AIDS, listened to them and wore a condom, most of the time, but about the disease itself he knew next to nothing.
While pondering this Gateau was surprised to find Marron once again in the same room as him.
"Sorry," the dark haired man apologized quietly. "I'm just..."
"Don't worry about it."
"I was thinking, maybe it would be easier for you if I wasn't here all the time."
"Oh no, I'm not letting you get away that easy." Gateau found himself on his feet, as if to physically stop the other from leaving. "There' s no reason for you to go..."
"I'm not moving out, Gateau." Was there a little smile there?
"Huh?"
"Tira called yesterday while you were out," he leaned against the wall as he spoke. "Her friend is opening a store in a few weeks and is looking for employees. The pay would be okay, and Tira would be there as well."
Gateau's mind instantly rebelled at the idea of having Marron once more away from him, even if it was just a few days a week. "You don't /have to/ work."
"I know."
"You want to?"
"I'd like to, at least for a little while."
~***~
"Come over after school, we can play tennis." Gateau was terrible at the game, but he knew Marron enjoyed it.
"I can't today." He finished putting away his books and closed the locker.
"Why not?" Gateau blocked the other's progress in the hall by stepping in front of him. It was odd how Marron avoided his eyes.
"I have schoolwork, Gateau."
Surprised at the coldness of the other, Gateau let him go. The rest of the afternoon the blond racked his brain trying to figure out exactly what he had done wrong. When Marron rode home with Carrot, he decided, even though he couldn't remember it, he had done something fairly bad.
Grabbing a few flowers out of one of the gardens, Gateau wrapped them, rather pitifully, in a paper towel and headed to Marron's house to beg forgiveness. He left the flowers in the car and knocked on the door of the little house. He looked around while he waited for someone to answer. It wasn't so bad, he thought. Though the house was little more than the size of his own dining room, it was clean and well maintained. There was even a small flowerbed out front.
Onion soon came to the door, and Gateau was welcomed in as a friend of his children. Gateau really was fond of the older man, and became more so as he was told to sit on the plaid couch and offered a beer. Thinking of declining on the basis of looking proper, he reconsidered as the cold can was shoved into his hand.
"I'm afraid my idiot son is out with some girl or another." Adjusting the bit of tinfoil on the tip of the rabbit ears, Onion took a seat in the nearby recliner and switched on the television.
"I was actually here to see Marron."
"Should have figured that." The other gave him a smile. Gateau had asked Marron if he had told his father, well, anything. And though the younger man had answered and emphatic negative, Gateau still thought Onion knew more than he was letting on. "He's at work though."
"Work? Isn't he tutoring at school still?"
"Yeah. I hate that he has to do this on top of that, but," he sighed a little, "I can only make so much in the factory, and, well, it costs to live these days."
Gateau nodded, afraid to say anything lest his own financial situation, being that he had never worked a day in his life, be brought up for ridicule. No such thought crossed Onion mind. A few more questions yielded Marron's place of work, salary, and hours, none of which were impressive. Somewhat stunned, Gateau said goodbye and without stopping to think the situation through, went to find Marron.
His place of employment was a trendy restaurant downtown. Though he hadn't made a reservation, Gateau slipped the hostess a twenty and easily got a seat at a table Marron would be waiting.
He caught a glimpse of the boy before he was spotted. Looking sharp in a pair of black pants, button down shirt, and black vest, Marron took orders from a group of young ladies that seem to be staring at him a little too closely for Gateau's comfort. Looking at the small pad he carried, he stepped up to Gateau table. His voice never faltered as he spoke, but his eyes narrowed in aggravation.
"Welcome to Belle Nocte, what can I get you to drink?”
“Marron...”
“I’m very busy, sir,” the last word worked as an insult. “What can I get you to drink?”
Thinking the charade could only work so long, Gateau went along and ordered sparkling water. This was delivered briskly along with a menu. The blond watched as Marron turned away, tempted to reach out and grab at the long ponytail that hung between his shoulder blade. At least he thought better of that.
He ordered his chicken parmesan and ate without causing trouble. Only after the dishes were cleared and Marron returned with the bill did he make his move. As Marron went to set the leather bound booklet onto the table his wrist was snatched.
“Gateau!” he hissed, attempting to draw back but unable.
“So you do remember my name.”
“Don’t cause a scene,” gold eyes threatened revenge if said scene occurred.
“Look, you know you don’t have to do this.”
“I need a car, Gateau!” he whispered fiercely.
“I can get you one.”
“Get out.” With a final tug, Marron pulled himself free. Another waiter came to pick up his credit card.
~*~
A week passed fairly quickly and comparatively uneventfully. Fall seemed to be slipping more solidly into winter and Gateau had the pleasure of taking Marron shopping for a coat. Though he usually had some objection to things being bought for him, Marron, always having been rather sensitive to the cold, was glad to have a coat.
He ended up with three.
“I couldn’t help it,” Gateau explained as they carried the articles back into the house. The knee-length gray one would look nice with the younger man’s suit, the short blue one was perfect with his jeans, and then there was the full length black leather one that seemed to be the one Marron favored.
“Still,” he looked a little guilty as he examined the things laying across his bed, “you didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I like buying you things.”
Standing close in the warm room, Marron examined blue eyes for lies. Finding none, he reached up and placed a chaste little kiss to Gateau’s cheek before walking out of the room. Gateau stood stunned and happier than he had been in ages.
~*~
“Want me to give you a ride?”
“No. I’ll just take the bus.” Marron slipped on a pair of shoes at the door.
“Well, here,” Gateau fished around in a bowl that sat by the door. “Take one of the cars.”
Marron blinked at him as he proffered four sets of keys. Delicate hands were laid on top of Gateau’s.
“I’ll be fine.” But the look in the other man’s eyes made him reach out and take one of the keys.
“Six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock.”
And he was gone, and Gateau felt very much like a mother sending her child off to his first day of school.
~*~
The bookstore was a cozy little affair tucked into one of the downtown squares. With shelves of books, comfortable chairs, and a few table for the coffee drinkers, the space was filled but not cluttered. From his place behind the counter, Marron could keep an eye on most of the store. Even though it was the ‘grand opening,’ the place was far from crowded. He had helped sort books, guided a few customers in the correct direction, and rung up the occasional cup of overpriced coffee, sharing the workload equally with Tira.
Her short denim skirt rode up on her thighs as she leant wearily over the counter. Though that morning she had claimed the job to be a nice break from housework, it was already boring her. Marron was content to shuffle through magazines, and would later spend the time reading, but Tira found it hard to occupy herself. She wasn’t uneducated, nothing of the sort, but heavy literature, in which the store specialized (along with one other fair not yet arrived), was just not her style.
Marron had been given instructions via Tira, but she had promised that their boss would be stopping in later today to see how things were going.
“He’s a bit eccentric, but really a great guy.”`
Around two the bells at the door jingled to admit the owner. He dropped his long coat on the stand and shook his loose, wavy purple hair in an attempt to clear from it the light drizzle he had walked through. Brushing at the sleeves of his suit, he approached the counter and offered them both a smile.
“Ah, Tira!” His voice was pleasant baritone. Tira hurried around the counter to greet him, seemingly quite prepared as he kissed her on each cheek in greeting. “And you must be Marron!” Thankfully he offered his hand to the second, but could not keep from running his eyes up and down his frame. “Yes, you are quite lovely, quite lovely. The customers will love you, both of you!”
If nothing else he seemed energetic. He introduced himself with a rather long name, but before Marron could even attempt repeating it, shortened it to a simple ‘Milphey’ and absolutely denied being called ‘sir’ or ‘mr’. Seeming to be in a great hurry, and promising to stay longer on Saturday, he left extra keys for each of them and was gone.
“He seems busy.”
Tira nodded. “He runs all kinds of businesses. This one is just a hobby, really.”
“I’m not sure I would call him eccentric, though.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen him on a good day yet.”
~*~
“Sir, would you please go sit down somewhere!” Marshall, finally exasperated at his pacing, directed Gateau to the living room and turned on the television.
~*~
Tira emptied the last of the coffee into the bathroom sink. Through the propped open door she watched Marron wipe down the counter with a contented smile on his face. The job was perfect for him, that she was sure of, but whether or not it would work out for her remained to be seen.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so.” He pulled on his coat and turned off the lights.
Stepping through the glass doors, he watched as Tira turned around to lock them.
“Dinner?”
“Oh, not tonight. Gateau’s. . . ” he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that the other would be waiting on him.
“Sure,” she sounded a little disappointed, full of thoughts of her own empty apartment.
“On Thursday, perhaps?”
“That would be nice.” She mustered a little smile before taking the steps down to the parking lot.
~*~
It was already dark when Marron arrived home on Thursday. Expecting Gateau to only be around somewhere, he was mildly surprised when the blond met him at the door. Dressed in loose pants and a silk smoking jacket, he looked rather handsome as he took Marron’s coat and offered him a flute of champagne off a nearby tray.
Marron accepted the glass with a graceful gesture and allowed himself to be led into the living room. The main lights had been left off, but the glass topped tables were full of candles that robbed the room of its modern feeling. Even the TV was secreted away in its cabinet.
Gateau sat with him on the sofa, and Marron though he heard music playing softly somewhere.
“What is all this?” he questioned, setting down his glass so that the slight shake of his hand wouldn’t be so obvious.
“I took Marshall’s advice and made good use of my time today.”
“You spent the day lighting candles?”
“Much more than that. I’ve been thinking about my promise.”
Marron waited silently, sensing the dangerous territory.
“I will keep it Marron, that is what I want you to know first. I won’t do anything that can hurt you, or me. Do you understand that?” He lifted Marron’s chin until their eyes met. “Understand?”
“Yes,” it was a whisper.
Gateau kept the eye contact, his other hand made its way up Marron’s thigh, to his waist, and to his back. As his hand settled between Marron's shoulder blades, the blond leant in and covered the other’s lips with his own. He could feel Marron trembled in his grasp. Gateau soothed with his lips, gentle, placating touches before the long resting presence. As he felt Marron soften, his kiss held a smile. His tongue met with little resistance as it passed through to slide against Marron’s own. When they parted, Marron closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. He pressed a hand desperately against Gateau’s chest. The blond plucked up the delicate appendage and brought it to his lips.
“This can’t hurt you, Marron. This can’t hurt me.”
“Gateau, you do not understand...”
“But I do!” Gateau’s eyes lit. “I’ve read about it, Marron. I’ve called and asked questions. I do know, now. We can do this; we can do more than this.”
~tbc~
Ooh, I’m itching to write a lemon, but not yet, not yet my readers. But perhaps something... Ah, well, we shall see. Thanks for reading!
Oh, quick question, is my (almost non-existent) system for clarifying the flashback parts okay, or do you not notice it at all? I hate doing the "~flashback~" thing, but I'd rather do that than have everybody lost. Please let me know!
Sanctuary
Chapter Thirteen: I'll Tell You If You Promise
Gateau had finally settled into sleep around five and was late arising the next morning. He expected Marron to join him at lunch, but found the other still in bed and not quite recovered. It would be more than a week before he was quite himself again. On the third day, as Marron laid on the sofa, Gateau approached him once more about seeing a doctor.
"Just a quick check. You're not afraid are you?"
His attempt at levity was completely overlooked. "The doctor will have nothing to tell me that I don't already know."
"Well, isn't there some medicine or something you can get? I know you're better, but"
"There's no medicine for AIDS, Gateau," Marron snapped at him. Gateau was quick to withdraw the hand he had been resting on the other's shoulder. He stepped from the room, not so shocked at the response to his pestering, but overwhelmed by the idea that his mind had not connected the two things sooner.
The moment to Gateau was a wake up call. Though Marron had been hinting at it all along, Gateau realized for himself that he really had little to no idea of what to expect. He had heard the warnings about AIDS, listened to them and wore a condom, most of the time, but about the disease itself he knew next to nothing.
While pondering this Gateau was surprised to find Marron once again in the same room as him.
"Sorry," the dark haired man apologized quietly. "I'm just..."
"Don't worry about it."
"I was thinking, maybe it would be easier for you if I wasn't here all the time."
"Oh no, I'm not letting you get away that easy." Gateau found himself on his feet, as if to physically stop the other from leaving. "There' s no reason for you to go..."
"I'm not moving out, Gateau." Was there a little smile there?
"Huh?"
"Tira called yesterday while you were out," he leaned against the wall as he spoke. "Her friend is opening a store in a few weeks and is looking for employees. The pay would be okay, and Tira would be there as well."
Gateau's mind instantly rebelled at the idea of having Marron once more away from him, even if it was just a few days a week. "You don't /have to/ work."
"I know."
"You want to?"
"I'd like to, at least for a little while."
~***~
"Come over after school, we can play tennis." Gateau was terrible at the game, but he knew Marron enjoyed it.
"I can't today." He finished putting away his books and closed the locker.
"Why not?" Gateau blocked the other's progress in the hall by stepping in front of him. It was odd how Marron avoided his eyes.
"I have schoolwork, Gateau."
Surprised at the coldness of the other, Gateau let him go. The rest of the afternoon the blond racked his brain trying to figure out exactly what he had done wrong. When Marron rode home with Carrot, he decided, even though he couldn't remember it, he had done something fairly bad.
Grabbing a few flowers out of one of the gardens, Gateau wrapped them, rather pitifully, in a paper towel and headed to Marron's house to beg forgiveness. He left the flowers in the car and knocked on the door of the little house. He looked around while he waited for someone to answer. It wasn't so bad, he thought. Though the house was little more than the size of his own dining room, it was clean and well maintained. There was even a small flowerbed out front.
Onion soon came to the door, and Gateau was welcomed in as a friend of his children. Gateau really was fond of the older man, and became more so as he was told to sit on the plaid couch and offered a beer. Thinking of declining on the basis of looking proper, he reconsidered as the cold can was shoved into his hand.
"I'm afraid my idiot son is out with some girl or another." Adjusting the bit of tinfoil on the tip of the rabbit ears, Onion took a seat in the nearby recliner and switched on the television.
"I was actually here to see Marron."
"Should have figured that." The other gave him a smile. Gateau had asked Marron if he had told his father, well, anything. And though the younger man had answered and emphatic negative, Gateau still thought Onion knew more than he was letting on. "He's at work though."
"Work? Isn't he tutoring at school still?"
"Yeah. I hate that he has to do this on top of that, but," he sighed a little, "I can only make so much in the factory, and, well, it costs to live these days."
Gateau nodded, afraid to say anything lest his own financial situation, being that he had never worked a day in his life, be brought up for ridicule. No such thought crossed Onion mind. A few more questions yielded Marron's place of work, salary, and hours, none of which were impressive. Somewhat stunned, Gateau said goodbye and without stopping to think the situation through, went to find Marron.
His place of employment was a trendy restaurant downtown. Though he hadn't made a reservation, Gateau slipped the hostess a twenty and easily got a seat at a table Marron would be waiting.
He caught a glimpse of the boy before he was spotted. Looking sharp in a pair of black pants, button down shirt, and black vest, Marron took orders from a group of young ladies that seem to be staring at him a little too closely for Gateau's comfort. Looking at the small pad he carried, he stepped up to Gateau table. His voice never faltered as he spoke, but his eyes narrowed in aggravation.
"Welcome to Belle Nocte, what can I get you to drink?”
“Marron...”
“I’m very busy, sir,” the last word worked as an insult. “What can I get you to drink?”
Thinking the charade could only work so long, Gateau went along and ordered sparkling water. This was delivered briskly along with a menu. The blond watched as Marron turned away, tempted to reach out and grab at the long ponytail that hung between his shoulder blade. At least he thought better of that.
He ordered his chicken parmesan and ate without causing trouble. Only after the dishes were cleared and Marron returned with the bill did he make his move. As Marron went to set the leather bound booklet onto the table his wrist was snatched.
“Gateau!” he hissed, attempting to draw back but unable.
“So you do remember my name.”
“Don’t cause a scene,” gold eyes threatened revenge if said scene occurred.
“Look, you know you don’t have to do this.”
“I need a car, Gateau!” he whispered fiercely.
“I can get you one.”
“Get out.” With a final tug, Marron pulled himself free. Another waiter came to pick up his credit card.
~*~
A week passed fairly quickly and comparatively uneventfully. Fall seemed to be slipping more solidly into winter and Gateau had the pleasure of taking Marron shopping for a coat. Though he usually had some objection to things being bought for him, Marron, always having been rather sensitive to the cold, was glad to have a coat.
He ended up with three.
“I couldn’t help it,” Gateau explained as they carried the articles back into the house. The knee-length gray one would look nice with the younger man’s suit, the short blue one was perfect with his jeans, and then there was the full length black leather one that seemed to be the one Marron favored.
“Still,” he looked a little guilty as he examined the things laying across his bed, “you didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I like buying you things.”
Standing close in the warm room, Marron examined blue eyes for lies. Finding none, he reached up and placed a chaste little kiss to Gateau’s cheek before walking out of the room. Gateau stood stunned and happier than he had been in ages.
~*~
“Want me to give you a ride?”
“No. I’ll just take the bus.” Marron slipped on a pair of shoes at the door.
“Well, here,” Gateau fished around in a bowl that sat by the door. “Take one of the cars.”
Marron blinked at him as he proffered four sets of keys. Delicate hands were laid on top of Gateau’s.
“I’ll be fine.” But the look in the other man’s eyes made him reach out and take one of the keys.
“Six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock.”
And he was gone, and Gateau felt very much like a mother sending her child off to his first day of school.
~*~
The bookstore was a cozy little affair tucked into one of the downtown squares. With shelves of books, comfortable chairs, and a few table for the coffee drinkers, the space was filled but not cluttered. From his place behind the counter, Marron could keep an eye on most of the store. Even though it was the ‘grand opening,’ the place was far from crowded. He had helped sort books, guided a few customers in the correct direction, and rung up the occasional cup of overpriced coffee, sharing the workload equally with Tira.
Her short denim skirt rode up on her thighs as she leant wearily over the counter. Though that morning she had claimed the job to be a nice break from housework, it was already boring her. Marron was content to shuffle through magazines, and would later spend the time reading, but Tira found it hard to occupy herself. She wasn’t uneducated, nothing of the sort, but heavy literature, in which the store specialized (along with one other fair not yet arrived), was just not her style.
Marron had been given instructions via Tira, but she had promised that their boss would be stopping in later today to see how things were going.
“He’s a bit eccentric, but really a great guy.”`
Around two the bells at the door jingled to admit the owner. He dropped his long coat on the stand and shook his loose, wavy purple hair in an attempt to clear from it the light drizzle he had walked through. Brushing at the sleeves of his suit, he approached the counter and offered them both a smile.
“Ah, Tira!” His voice was pleasant baritone. Tira hurried around the counter to greet him, seemingly quite prepared as he kissed her on each cheek in greeting. “And you must be Marron!” Thankfully he offered his hand to the second, but could not keep from running his eyes up and down his frame. “Yes, you are quite lovely, quite lovely. The customers will love you, both of you!”
If nothing else he seemed energetic. He introduced himself with a rather long name, but before Marron could even attempt repeating it, shortened it to a simple ‘Milphey’ and absolutely denied being called ‘sir’ or ‘mr’. Seeming to be in a great hurry, and promising to stay longer on Saturday, he left extra keys for each of them and was gone.
“He seems busy.”
Tira nodded. “He runs all kinds of businesses. This one is just a hobby, really.”
“I’m not sure I would call him eccentric, though.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen him on a good day yet.”
~*~
“Sir, would you please go sit down somewhere!” Marshall, finally exasperated at his pacing, directed Gateau to the living room and turned on the television.
~*~
Tira emptied the last of the coffee into the bathroom sink. Through the propped open door she watched Marron wipe down the counter with a contented smile on his face. The job was perfect for him, that she was sure of, but whether or not it would work out for her remained to be seen.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so.” He pulled on his coat and turned off the lights.
Stepping through the glass doors, he watched as Tira turned around to lock them.
“Dinner?”
“Oh, not tonight. Gateau’s. . . ” he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that the other would be waiting on him.
“Sure,” she sounded a little disappointed, full of thoughts of her own empty apartment.
“On Thursday, perhaps?”
“That would be nice.” She mustered a little smile before taking the steps down to the parking lot.
~*~
It was already dark when Marron arrived home on Thursday. Expecting Gateau to only be around somewhere, he was mildly surprised when the blond met him at the door. Dressed in loose pants and a silk smoking jacket, he looked rather handsome as he took Marron’s coat and offered him a flute of champagne off a nearby tray.
Marron accepted the glass with a graceful gesture and allowed himself to be led into the living room. The main lights had been left off, but the glass topped tables were full of candles that robbed the room of its modern feeling. Even the TV was secreted away in its cabinet.
Gateau sat with him on the sofa, and Marron though he heard music playing softly somewhere.
“What is all this?” he questioned, setting down his glass so that the slight shake of his hand wouldn’t be so obvious.
“I took Marshall’s advice and made good use of my time today.”
“You spent the day lighting candles?”
“Much more than that. I’ve been thinking about my promise.”
Marron waited silently, sensing the dangerous territory.
“I will keep it Marron, that is what I want you to know first. I won’t do anything that can hurt you, or me. Do you understand that?” He lifted Marron’s chin until their eyes met. “Understand?”
“Yes,” it was a whisper.
Gateau kept the eye contact, his other hand made its way up Marron’s thigh, to his waist, and to his back. As his hand settled between Marron's shoulder blades, the blond leant in and covered the other’s lips with his own. He could feel Marron trembled in his grasp. Gateau soothed with his lips, gentle, placating touches before the long resting presence. As he felt Marron soften, his kiss held a smile. His tongue met with little resistance as it passed through to slide against Marron’s own. When they parted, Marron closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. He pressed a hand desperately against Gateau’s chest. The blond plucked up the delicate appendage and brought it to his lips.
“This can’t hurt you, Marron. This can’t hurt me.”
“Gateau, you do not understand...”
“But I do!” Gateau’s eyes lit. “I’ve read about it, Marron. I’ve called and asked questions. I do know, now. We can do this; we can do more than this.”
~tbc~
Ooh, I’m itching to write a lemon, but not yet, not yet my readers. But perhaps something... Ah, well, we shall see. Thanks for reading!
Oh, quick question, is my (almost non-existent) system for clarifying the flashback parts okay, or do you not notice it at all? I hate doing the "~flashback~" thing, but I'd rather do that than have everybody lost. Please let me know!