Work Text:
One beautiful August morning, when the sun was already up and people were milling around the quarter like little ants at work, Sara asked John whether he might help her with some shopping she had to do. And of course, John couldn’t do otherwise but oblige. Honestly, after what they had done for him, she could ask him for the blue from the sky and John would be happy to climb up and get it. And still, it wouldn’t be enough, John’s debt would never be repaid.
He was not deserving of any of this.
So, he agreed with a smile on his face, and held the door open for Sara to step through. A golden necklace with three pomegranate charms, inlaid with the little red garnets he had once given Sam, glittered around her throat in the sun. He always enjoyed spending time with Sara, since she was full of interesting observations about the people around her.
This time was no different. “Do you see those two girl-twins over there, John?” she whispered as she leaned towards him, but not before making sure nobody who could hear them was around.
John looked in the direction Sara was pointing in. Ah, yes, there they were, behind a stall selling some pastries. Same dress, same slippers, same belt, same face. John wondered if they sometimes argued about what to wear or if they were so in sync such a scenario never came up.
When John covertly nodded, Sara continued, “They are both currently being courted, and once, to approve the other’s choice in men, they switched places when going for an outing. I think the boys must have passed the test, since the courtships are still ongoing.”
John had no other option but to respect that.
“How do you know that?” John asked, taking the basket with some eggs and vegetables out of Sara’s hands, not wanting her to carry it when he could be useful.
“The girls told of the plan to one of their cousins, and she shared it with her mother. Their family lives right next to us, you know who I mean, right? The girl has a wide mouth and smiles very easily, but she talks a little loud.” She side eyed John, looking a little proud of herself, the tone of her voice mock-innocent. “I just happened to overhear.”
Another bonus to spending time with Sara were all the stories of Sam’s childhood he got to hear. It was a wonderful revelation that Sam had been as clingy as he is now since childhood. Of course, when asked, Sam would vehemently deny it, but it was rare that John woke up without Sam practically enveloping him. And sometimes drooling on his shoulder.
Concluding their shopping trip, John helped Sara put everything in its place, then went to the tavern to see Sam and ask if he wanted help with something. Unfortunately, he found Sam was gone. “He said he had to run some errand,” Chasha informed him, “but I’ve no idea where he went or when he’ll return.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose you need me here for anything,” John said, a little dejected Sam didn’t think to tell him he would be gone. A little sliver of worry wormed its way to his head, a hissing snake; "Sam is getting sick of you," and "you are worse than nothing" and "you are a burden."
He had to forcefully banish the thought, shaking his head. Sam did want him here, otherwise, he wouldn’t have given John the ketubah to sign. Oh, how the thought of it always made John’s heart beat faster.
Forcing him out of his thoughts about how wonderful Sam was, Chasha pressed a damp rag to his hand and pointed to a nearby table, “That thing over there is quite dirty. A bit sticky, you know, and I don’t know with what. Someone probably spilled something,” she shuddered, then gave him a cutesy smile, “It’s kind of you to offer your help, because I refuse to touch that.”
And with that, she rushed back to the kitchen and John was left alone with the rag in his hand.
John also didn’t want to touch anything… sticky but was glad he could be made useful. The table was covered in some sort of film and John resisted the urge to bend over and smell what it was. The less he knew, the better. Thankfully, it wasn’t all that hard to scrub off in the end. Once he was finished, feeling a little proud of himself, a little lighter, he went back to the kitchen to see if anything else was needed.
But both Chasha and Eli just looked helplessly at each other. A silent conversation passed between them, and once they reached some sort of consensus, they proceeded to unceremoniously kick him out. “Please, just go mope somewhere else,” Eli said while shooing him out of the tavern, “I’m quite sure Sam didn’t elope and will return within the hour.”
On the way home, he chanced upon Sara again. She let him know she was going to visit one of her friends who was feeling a bit under the weather, and then she would go to the synagogue for the afternoon service. John wished her a nice outing and then mentally slapped himself, because telling someone, “Have a nice prayer,” sounded objectively stupid.
Jehuda was also gone, most likely at the synagogue, which meant John was alone.
Shutting the door behind himself, he tried to think of something to do around the house. It seemed Sam always had so much work around here, and John was always happy to help, but these tasks somehow never occured to him on his own.
Still, he fortunately did pick up something, and so he went outside for some firewood and stacked it next to the oven. Squatting down next to it, he took out some of the ashes inside and put them in a bowl to make soap later, since Sam told him yesterday evening they were on the last bar. It was a quite simple process, but John enjoyed it nontheless. It was a nice feeling, knowing that he made something with his hands by himself. He should probably go and gather some flowers to that one clearing in the forest, so he could dry them and add them to the soap. Well, he will probably go after sunset when there weren’t as many people out and about in the city. Besides, he wouldn’t want to worry Sam by disappearing without talking to him.
Next, he decided to sweep the floor, because that was seemingly a never-ending task, and Sara always seemed pleased when she didn’t have to do it herself. It was not much, but it did again quiet the voice in his head.
He also knew Sam mentioned having to repair a crack in one of the wooden boards of the wall, but John was not feeling confident enough to take on this task alone. The last thing he would want is to create even more problems for Sam. He had enough on his shoulders already, he didn’t need John’s incompetency on top.
Looking around himself and not seeing anything else to try to do, John resigned himself to just sitting around while he waited for Sam to arrive. Realizing that simply staring at the wall was not the best idea, he decided to pick up a book Sam had procured for him recently from who knows where. Thankfully, it didn’t look new at all, rather, it was on the opposite end of the spectrum. Which was good. John knew, from experience, that new books could cost a small fortune, especially if they were illuminated. He would hate it if Sam parted with so much money, just for his entertainment.
He took the book outside, to the little inner courtyard they had, and made himself comfortable under the sour cherry tree that grew there, on the side where no shadow fell. Sour cherries were Sam’s favourite, but John preferred the classical, sweet cherries. If he were a poet, he could make a metaphor out of that. As it stood, his attempts at poetry were rather pathetic, but they always made Sam laugh, so he occasionally tried his hand at a verse or two.
He tilted his head towards the sun, enjoying the warmth on his skin and in his hair. He never got much of that, before.
Then, he carefully opened the book and started reading. The words didn’t do much to quell the nagging feeling in his chest, but at least they were a small distraction.
He honestly lost track of time, so maybe he was sitting there for a few minutes, maybe for an hour, when something small bumped into his leg. Looking down, his eyes met those of a small cat. At least he thought it was a cat. Its visage was a bit… unfortunate.
“Hello there,” he murmured, offering his hand to the cat to sniff. It looked him in the eyes, and John thought this is what it must feel like when a person dies and their soul is judged, so intent was its stare. When it finally averted its gaze, it sniffed at John’s proffered hand, knocking its nose against John’s fingers lightly. It probably deemed John safe enough, because the next moment, it was pushing its head into John’s palm.
Laughing softly, he put his book aside and started stroking the cat’s sparse white and black fur. First, it pressed its whole body against John’s leg and started purring, then it flopped over to the ground, first on its right side, then it swiftly turned so it was lying on its left side. In the second that its belly was exposed, John quickly checked between its legs, finding it was a female.
She made herself comfortable on the grass, not touching John’s leg but looking blissed out from his ministrations. “Aren’t you a pretty girl,” he continued petting her, starting on her neck and stroking all the way to her tail. The repetitive motion was rather calming.
He had always liked cats; how independent they were, how true to themselves. They wouldn’t change for the sake of others. Many saw their lack of absolute loyalty as something that made them inherently inferior to dogs, but John always admired that they wanted to keep their freedom.
He had once asked his mother, when he was a boy, whether he might have a cat since his brother Georg got a hunting dog from their father for his name day.
Suffice to say, his mother was not pleased at all with his request. “Do you wish to invite the Devil to our household?” she barked at him across the table, “idiot child. You’re on your way to becoming a heretic!” John didn’t know what had hurt more- the words, the way she twisted his ear afterwards, his father’s disapproving frown, or his brothers’ downturned eyes.
Ironically enough, she wasn’t all that wrong about the heretic part.
One of John’s fingers grazed over the ridges created by the cat’s ribs, and he frowned, looking down at her, “You’d probably want something to eat right? You’re all bones and skin.”
At the mention of food, the cat started meowing loudly, as if she knew what John was talking about.
“Ah, very well then. Who am I to refuse service to such a beautiful creature,” he said while scooping up the cat gently into his arms. When he was sure she wouldn’t start scratching at his face, he took her inside, his book tucked under his arm, to maybe give her a little bit of milk.
He put the cat on the ground and she immediately ran to the table to rub her body against its leg. Meanwhile, John started to rummage around in the cupboard where they stored plates for some small saucer.
He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening. Sam came in, hair a little tousled, a bit out of breath, obviously having ran some distance.
“John, I heard you were looking for-,” he spotted the cat on the ground, staring in quiet disbelief. “What is that?” he managed after a moment.
“A… cat?” John replied, not sure what the correct answer was. “She started demanding attention from me outside, and she’s so thin, I just thought I would give her a bit of milk, you know? She doesn’t even look all that old, probably less than a year, and I just felt sorry for her.”
The cat interrupted John by jumping on the table, meowing loudly in Sam’s general direction, and then making a leap into John’s arms, where she started purring again.
“I don’t suppose we could keep her, right?” John asked, a little desperate. But her weight and purring was just so calming, he couldn’t help himself.
Sam finally gathered his bearings. “John. She looks like she has every disease under the sun.”
“I know she looks a little rough around the edges, but it’s not something that couldn’t be fixed!”
Sam looked highly skeptical of that. Still, he took a few steps toward John and hesitantly stroked the cat’s back. Because it was probably the first time she was getting this much attention since leaving her mother, the cat’s expression could only be described as absolute bliss.
“Let me hold her,” Sam demanded after a moment. Handing her over, John watched as Sam scratched her on her head, then took one of her paws and ran his thumb over the underside, feeling the soft toe beans. The cat started purring even louder.
Sam’s expression softened, some of the harsh lines on his face disappearing, and that’s when John knew the little thing had won Sam over.
Sam could try to hide it behind his stern exterior and biting remarks, but John knew Sam’s heart was one of the kindest in the world, always ready to offer a helping hand. Human or animal. Once, John saw him painstakingly return two little birds who had fallen out of the tree to their nest. The gentleness with which he had handled the two hatchlings was honestly one of the most adorable things John had ever seen.
Oh, how much John didn’t deserve to call a man like Sam his.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to keep her,” Sam sighed, still holding the cat, “cats are quite useful, after all.”
“Ah, thank you Sam!” John pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, don’t worry. I know I can be a bit useless around here, and honestly, I’d hate for you to have even more work, what with me not knowing how to-“
“John, wait-“ Sam stopped John’s babbling. “Don't feel guilty about that. You make an effort, that’s important. And,” Sam continued with a slight smirk on his face, “your lack of skills is not something that couldn’t be fixed.”
How cruel of Sam to use John’s words against him.
When John didn’t say anything, just stared at the worn floor, Sam gave him a long-suffering look. "Do I have to stuff the soap you made into your mouth for you to understand?"
"Please don’t," John scoweled at him, just slightly.
Still, it did make him feel a little better. He would probably continue feeling out of his depth for some time, and would feel bad for Sam having to always tell him what to do, but it was a liberating feeling, knowing Sam didn’t hold it against him.
The cat meowed again in Sam’s arms, discontent the attention wasn’t on her.
“What should we call her?” Sam asked, resuming his petting.
“I was thinking Schön.“ John booped the cat on the nose.
Sam looked at John as if he lost his mind completely. “What? You can’t be serious.”
John put his hand under his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Oh, now that I’m thinking about it, you’re probably right.” Sam looked relieved for a moment, before John gave him a beatific smile and said, “Sheyn would be better.”
“No, that- that was not the problem! You know that, don’t play dumb,” he lightly tugged on a lock of John’s hair when John giggled under his breath.
“She’s missing her eye, she’s missing her ear and she has about three tufts of fur in total.”
“She’s beautiful on the inside,” John replied without missing a beat.
Sam tilted his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes, and John got the distinct impression he might actually be praying. After a minute of silence, he appeared to resign himself to the fact that the ugliest cat in the whole of Kolín will be named “beautiful.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “Sheyn it is.”