Fic: Captive Hearts: The Wedding Drag

[beanside]

Okay, this is crack. I make no claims otherwise. It's a total Harlequin-esque crackfic.

Verse: Captive Hearts
Title: The Wedding Drag
Rating: R (and C for crack)
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen
Summary: Arranged Marriage! In Space! With Aliens!
Disclaimer: Never happened, never will. Total fiction.
Note: as suggested by the awesome gblvr for the Egyptian words, just hover your cursor over for the translation.
Banner by the awesomely awesome angstpuppy





This could not be happening, Jensen thought wildly, looking out the window at the rising new second moon of Set'et. Probably the last time he'd ever see it, unless he could talk his father out of this insane plan.

"Let me see if I understand. You want to be allowed in the Imhoten country club. Which you won't be, because they don't go on money, they go on family lines." His controlled voice slipped as his rage grew. "So to tie yourself to one of the Nine Families, you sold my ass to some toothless old bastard on another planet!"

"Language," his mother scolded, fanning herself rapidly. As she sweated, her perfume wafted to him. The usual comfort of his mother was stripped away at the moment, leaving the burn of betrayal.

"Oh, I'll give you language. Then, because that wasn't enough of a fuck up, you set the bridal price high enough that he thinks he's getting your daughter!"

"It doesn't matter, Jensen," his father soothed. "You'll be veiled."

"No. Men don't go veiled," Jensen said. "You've deceived everybody enough. You know, if you wanted me dead, there were much easier ways than sending me off to Shulian to be beaten to death by an old man. Or his heirs."

"He has no heirs," his father corrected him. "You'll be his first spouse. This marriage is most convenient to all parties."

Before Jensen could turn on him, his mother caught him by the shoulders. Smoothing his shirt down, she said, "Seba Morgan-Shu is of the highest breeding, Jensen. You should be proud to be his mate."

"I'm not gay! He probably isn't either! And I'm not changing my name."

"You most certainly will young man. Otherwise, no one will know that--" Jensen's mother stopped, her hand grasping near the laces of her corset. "oh, oh!"

Jensen winced and pointed her in the direction of the fainting couch. She slumped there, pink in the face, fingers fluttering like a wounded bird.

"Look what you've done!" his father growled.

"If she wouldn't crush herself into that horrible thing day and night, she'd be fine!"

Coming to stand beside his mother, his father rested his hands on her shoulder. A united front; Jensen felt his rage bleed into dread. "Your mother is a very delicate lady, and you know it."

"I've met Aunt Tricia. They came from fishmongers. Before mom decided to be a lady, she spent most of her life up to her elbows in fish entrails," Jensen argued.

Unfortunately, his father didn't swing at the bait. He stood up straight and announced, as if Jensen was one of his dock-workers, "You will marry Seba Morgan. Period. Until you reach your age of majority, you live by my rules."

Jensen's hands curled into fists. "I'll be thirty in three months."

"And your wedding is in two," his father said levelly. "You're outmatched, Jensen, and throwing a tantrum only embarrasses you. You will pack, you will go to Shulian, and you will marry Mr. Morgan. In this, at least, you will do me proud."

Jensen flinched like he'd been hit, despite himself. He drew in a trembling breath, and then a slower one, and turned away. He knew there was something clever he could say, some cutting words to show them they were wrong, but the only words he thought of were small and hurt. He would not be hurt. He would be untouchable.

And when he met this Morgan-shu, he would take this exile for what it was: an escape.
****
Jeff lowered the newspaper and asked, "You what?"

Upon hearing Jeff's voice boom off the walls of his office, most people would have the sense to retreat.

Instead, Jeremy gave him an unimpressed look and continued smoking, scattering ash off the top of Jeff's desk. "Arranged for you to get married. It's in March, by the way. The arrangements will be cheaper. June, everything will be booked, you can't get a high priest--"

"Married?" Jeff demanded. "To who?"

"Some girl in Set'et. Water planet on the outer circuit. A bit backwater, but hey. Dad's a Senator, new money and no blood, seemed happy to get the kid off his hands. Mutually convenient." Glancing at Jeff, Jeremy read his expression and sighed. "If you're not hitched by your 42nd birthday--"

The Pesedjet, a tribunal, possible exile to the High Medics for a year to study his malfunction, probable death for his father's company in his absence. Jeff pinched the bridge of his own nose, trying to squeeze away his impending headache. "I'm gay, Jere."

"They said to marry. You swear on paper that you breed with her once a year, it's fine. Nobody's parading around bedsheets or anything." Jeremy shrugged. "At least not after the first time. You want me to break out the propaganda about living longer with a companion, humans need their mate or mates, continue our species, sunshine up your ass?"

"Says the man with a harem," Jeff muttered.

"Dare you to say that to Ever's face. Or Gina's."

"It's not--" fair, Jeff stopped himself from saying. He folded up the newspaper with a few brisk snaps. "What does she think?"

"Who, Ever?"

"The girl, dumbass. The one you're wrenching out of her home to the big city." Dropping the newspaper, Jeff stood and paced to his window. The world-city spread out beneath him, an echo of the stars. "She won't be happy, I'll be miserable, we'll both cheat. So much for living longer with a mate."

"Hey." Jeremy came over, bumping shoulders with him. "I'd marry you into our family in a heartbeat, dude, but--"

"You can't. I know that." Jeff leaned into him for a moment, and Jeremy wrapped his arm around him. Not for the first time, he cursed the rule that first marriages be to opposite gender, single mates. Particularly for the First Families, the ones the Pesedjet most valued.

The Pesedjet meant well. They'd saved the First Families, after all, and the rest of the survivors after First Earth went up in a series of nuclear blasts. The Pesedjet studied human behavior and tried to be kind, as they knew how, but it was the paternalistic kindness of gods to insects. Humans must survive to be studied, must propagate from their scattered remains, must connect and marry and breed for the greater good. Those that wouldn't connect, wouldn't breed, wouldn't marry... they were ill, and must be studied for flaws. They must be repaired.

The humans that went into Pesedjet custody, those that disobeyed, came back changed. Shattered and rebuilt in perfect genetic patterns. A year of white walls, steel probes, Pesedjia grinding away at his mind... no, Jeff wouldn't survive that.

"Think on the bright side," Jeremy said finally, squeezing Jeff hard before letting him go. "No more scrutiny into who you spend your time with. You can bring a boyfriend in, even."

"I hate you," Jeff said without venom.

"Yeah, I know. Thank me later." Reaching into his jacket, Jeremy handed him a stack of pamplets. "In the meantime, look these over."

Jeff fanned the brochures out and grimaced. Flower arrangements. So much for a small, private affair with just him and the girl. "What if she hates Bisou?" he asked, hopelessly.

"Better that way. At least Bisou will bite back."