cranberry wishes

a/n: written for morsmordre's shipping week. prompt: n/a

Chastity had always liked cranberries.

Unfortunately, though, she didn't get to eat them very often. Even when she got a rare break from Mary Lou's endless supply of peas, it was most likely in the form of dampish bread or whatever her adoptive mother had strained from the bathtub and thrown on a plate.

She had once made the mistake of asking Mary Lou for some cranberries. She could have sworn there were extra peas in her soup that night.

She and Credence sometimes ducked into the candy store while out with their leaflets. The candy was always a welcome change from the bombardment of peas, and she was grateful for it. But none of the flavors could truly match her desire for the tart bite of her favorite fruit.

Whenever their grandmother would give them some spending money, Chastity always put some aside in case she found somewhere that sold cranberries. But she never got to use it. The only place she knew of that had them was the store where her mother insisted she didn't need them and loaded her arms with bags of peas.

Chastity knew it was the same with Credence and blueberries. But at least their grandmother sometimes baked those into her cakes.

Eventually she began to forget what cranberries even tasted like. To her, they were becoming just another food that wasn't peas.

Though as they grew older, Mary Lou began to entrust Credence with some of the shopping. And even if it was usually because she claimed her malfunctioning leaf machine wanted something, it was still an improvement.

When he was sent to purchase some blueberries for Ivan, Credence would purchase some for himself, hiding them somewhere in his bedroom for when he needed a reprieve from peas. And one day, to her delight, he brought home a little bag of cranberries, slipping them into her sleeve to avoid detection.

Chastity hid them under the loose floorboard, rediscovering the sharp taste each time she slipped a berry into her mouth. She made the little bag last a month. And for a month everything was just a little bit better, even though Ivan still kept eating her hair.

-end-