Comfort
By: CrystallicSky
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters. Warnings: Fluff, homosexuality, fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff. XD
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Jack sat quietly in the darkness of his lab, elbows propped up on his worktable and his head in his hands.
The youth was utterly miserable. Not only had he lost another Showdown and been taunted relentlessly by the monks for it, but he could think of absolutely nothing to do in response.
There were no ideas for revenge flooding his head like usual, no machine schematics, not even vague plans for a juvenile prank to get even!
His creativity had been sapped dry. He felt exhausted, frustrated, and hopeless all at once.
He had nothing.
Then, Jack's spine tingled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the only warning before a pair of arms looped about his shoulders.
The goth almost fought them; almost tried to break free, but then the arms squeezed him tightly, warmly, and he relaxed into the embrace.
A hand came up to rest upon a cool, metal armguard and it was not protested. Jack simply gave a tired sigh and rested his head weakly upon a firm, hard chest.
The being behind him must have sensed his despondent mood somehow, for his hold tightened possessively.
Jack smiled, though it was a very tired grin. He was miserable and exhausted and frustrated and hopeless, yes, but he had the one thing that he was sure would get him through it.
"Will you be alright, Spicer?" Chase Young murmured in a low, smoky voice, bending ever so slightly to speak the words directly at his ear.
Jack's smile broadened. "Yeah, Chase," he assured quietly. "I'll be just fine."
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A/N: For Cold-Creature's Chack Writing Competition! Just a teensy little idea that spawned in my head and had to be written out. :) Thanks for reading this tiny drabble, and I hope you liked it! :D