Chapter Ten
We can’t keep sleeping on our mate when we’re not asleep.
Behind his closed eyelids, Marty rolled his eyes. Of course we can. You felt his energy. He was going to run off again. By pretending to be asleep, I don’t have to talk. I can’t fuck things up that way.
He’s our mate. He won’t run off.
Not at the moment. He’s actually gone to sleep. Do we know anything about an Ares? He has a lot of magic. You’d think people would know about him.
He’s a god. One of the old ones. The God of War and Courage, I think. One of the twelve original Olympians.
Marty proved eyes could widen under closed eyelids. How did we end up with a god?
Just lucky, I guess. Personally, I think he’s lucky to have us. The raccoon always had high self-esteem. What you’re failing to remember is that he can’t claim us if he’s sleeping, and we can’t claim him if we’re pretending to nap, either.
He didn’t come here to claim us. He came here to yell at me for showing my ass cheeks to the neighbors. Marty sighed, and then, remembering he was supposed to be asleep, added a snort at the end so it could be mistaken for a snore. I have enough trouble keeping ordinary people around me. They think I’m weird and that I talk weird, and that I’m just plain weird, and then they leave me, or kick me out, or…
STOP! Red Sign! Red Sign! STOP!
Marty’s eyes flew open, and he let go of the breath he’d been holding. Thank you. Phew, that was close. Thank you so much.
He and his raccoon had a system born out of necessity. While Marty strived to be positive all the time, he wasn’t always successful. When things got bleak, it was easy for his brain to spiral downward, making it almost impossible to climb out of the hole he imagined his soul sinking into. If his raccoon ever noticed it happening, he would yell, which would break Marty’s train of thought.
Go and bake a cake. Our mate’s scent is making my teeth itch. Get up, put actual clothes on, then go and make that cake you promised us. Maybe our god will be wowed by your baking skills.
Won’t I wake him up?
No. He probably watched us all night, making sure we were safe. He’ll sleep provided you don’t make a ridiculous amount of noise.
Doing something positive was another way to get out of the doldrums, so Marty carefully unwrapped himself from the blanket Ares’ magic had swamped him with, taking care not to wiggle too much as he slipped off his mate’s lap and tiptoed to the bedroom.
/~/~/~/~/
“Ouch, ouch, ouch. Why do I always burn myself?” Marty loved baking, and others had told him in the past that he was good at it. But trying to make a cake with a sleeping person not more than twenty feet away wasn’t easy.
He wrapped the outside of his mixing bowl with a dishcloth to muffle the mixing sounds. He opened the cupboard doors carefully and then deliberately closed them slowly as well. Getting a mixing spoon out of a drawer full of other utensils took some real skill – and more than ten minutes on its own.
Unsure what sort of cake Ares might like, Marty went with an old favorite of his – carrot cake with a cream cheese icing and walnut decorations. He quickly got into the swing of things, despite it being many years since he’d done any baking in a proper kitchen. It was helpful that the cupboards seemed to automatically provide the ingredients he needed.
At one point, he was looking for baking powder, and he mentioned that out loud – quietly - as he was studying the contents of the cupboard. A box of baking powder just appeared. Same with the walnut pieces. Fascinating.
The cake went into the oven, super quietly. Marty watched it through the glass door – all ovens had variations in their temperature, and he wanted the cake to be perfect.
His raccoon was excellent at judging the right point of “done,” and when the smells started wafting around the room, Marty carefully opened the oven door and removed the cake tin. But he was so excited to see how the cake had turned out, Marty forgot to grab something to protect his hands from the hot tin, and he couldn’t resist the “Ouch, ouch, ouch” as he moved faster than he thought possible to put the tin on the kitchen counter. “Why do I always burn myself?”
“You’re hurt? What happened?”
Oh, my goodness, he’s awake. “Go back to sleep. The cake’s not iced yet.” Marty didn’t have a chance to look at his mate. He was running his blistered fingers under the cold tap.
“Did you make me a cake?” Ares was there by his side as if he’d flown, and as he was a god, that was highly possible. Marty had no idea what gods could or could not do. “Here, let me help.”
Marty just stood, his mouth open, as Ares removed his hands from the running water and gently swiped his larger fingers over Marty’s. “There. All better now.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.” Any of the pain from the burns had disappeared. “I need to ice the cake, but it has to cool first.”
“It smells lovely.” Ares was still holding his hands. “What type of cake is it?”
“Carrot cake with cream cheese icing and walnut decorations.” Marty was looking at where their hands were joined.
“How did you know that was my favorite?”
That made Marty look up, and he grinned. “It’s my favorite, too. We match.”
Ares seemed to be blushing – his cheeks were pink, which looked very fetching with his silver hair. Clearing his throat, Ares asked, “So what do we have to do with this cake before we can eat it? I’ve never baked before, but that cake smells delicious.”