AN: These one-shots are dedicated to Jack E Peace and everyone else who has been so encouraging to me since I began writing in this fandom.
Family of Woman and Man
It was strange for him, this new life, and Aaron was not entirely sure he knew what the hell he was doing. The little apartment they were renting was little more than one room with a bathroom attached. The corner he stood in was the kitchen; a hotplate with a toaster-like oven and a refrigerator that Marta joked was thinner than she was. He was in the process of making a cold lunch for himself and Marta but his progress was being hampered by the cat winding its way around and through his ankles. A cat of uncommon intelligence that latched onto Marta the minute they stepped foot in Jordon; hence the name of Jordan.
Marta was laying on the one piece of furniture in the room which was the bed and she laughed when he huffed and grudgingly bent to scratch Jordan's head. "She likes you," she said as she lazily fanned herself with a crumpled magazine. It was hot as hell outside and they had no air conditioning so she was wearing the very least she could without being totally exposed and he was simply wearing his boxers.
"She likes the tuna," he denied but he gave in and placed the tuna can on the floor for the feline to lick clean. He frowned when the cat did not immediately attack the tin, but instead pounced on his hand and began licking his fingers affectionately.
"Yeah," Marta scoffed, "It is the tuna that drew her to you."
"Me," he asked confused. "She latched on to you the minute you crossed paths."
"Correction," Marta shook her head, "she climbed up and over me to get to you. My tee shirt has the puncture marks to prove it."
"Why," he asked genuinely confused. "You are the one that decided to keep her. I would have left her in the ally."
"She wanted a home and she knew she would be safe with you," Marta informed him as he fended off the cat's advances and then ran his hand over her twitching ears and along her spin to wrap around her tail stroking it before standing up and washing his hands in the miniscule sink to the left of the fridge. "Pets usually work that way," she added with a smile, "you know?"
"I—uh I never had a pet before," he told her without meeting her gaze. Slicing ripe, juicy tomatoes with his field knife, a wicked seven inch blade with a black powder-coat finish negating reflection was incongruous and seemed oddly domestic.
"I had a turtle," Marta said, "As my first pet I named her Jane."
"Jane," he asked, with a laugh turning to see the slightly embarrassed tingeing her cheeks. "You named a turtle Jane?"
"I was four," she defended.
"Was that your only pet," Aaron asked, using his knife he cut the sandwich in half diagonally the way Marta always did. She said it was something her mother used to do; so, Aaron began cutting their sandwiches that way to give her something familiar. Even before Irwin his mother wasn't the type to take the time to make him a sandwich and make fancy shapes. Usually she would toss a loaf in front of him with a tub of margarine; it is amazing how good margarine sandwiches taste when you have not eaten.
Pulling his mind away from the past he tuned into Marta just as she sighed, "You aren't listening to me are you?" Startled, Aaron looked up to find Marta standing at his side. "You had that look in your eyes," she raised her hand and rubbed at the furrow between his eyes gently with her thumb.
"Sorry, Doc," he handed her a plate and watched as she added chips to it before setting it aside to retrieve the figs from the fridge.
"It is okay," she murmured. She bumped him with her hip playfully and he stepped aside letting her take the knife. He watched curious as she cut several figs in half and set them on his plate. "There you are since I know you prefer the figs to these chips."
"Thanks," Aaron took the knife from her and washed and dried it putting it back in the leather case he found to disguise it in Istanbul.
Looking at his plate, Aaron realized that Marta would be a great mother. It was too bad that was impossible for her now.
It was probably somewhere around the Azores that he noticed Marta liked doing little things for him, like preparing figs for his plate when there was perfectly edible chips to be had. She just knew without him saying anything that he did not particularly like potato chips. It wasn't the taste that put him off it was the associated memories eating them brought to mind. His mother, a bar hopping stripper, usually brought him chips for supper at four in the morning when she finally came home with whatever drunk would have her for the night.
"What are you thinking about," she asked as she carried their plates to the bed and placed them on the foot of the bed before stretching out on her belly with her feet in the air.
"My mother," he sighed as he cautiously lay down beside her in the same pose.
"Is she still alive," Marta asked and he could hear the caution in her voice. She was not trying to be nosy, but she must have noticed that he was mentioning her more often these days.
"I don't know he admitted," picking up a fig and smiling before stuffing the entire piece into his mouth. Chewing it he swallowed and turned to meet Marta's concerned eyes. "Don't worry, Doc, I am not missing my mother. I barely knew her. She kept me around until I started kindergarten and the teachers expressed concern about my mental acumen. Too much work."
"That," Marta muttered looking stricken and he could tell she wanted to express her feelings about a mother that would leave her child because they might take a little extra effort. Instead she turned her face away.
Aaron gently turned her back to him and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "It isn't a big deal, Doc, I survived." Jordan jumped onto the bed and head butted Aaron before rubbing along his throat looking for attention. Laughing he tore off a bit of tuna and offered it to the diva-cat. "And besides as fucked up as this situation is I wouldn't change anything that might not end up with you and me sharing tuna sandwiches with Jordan."