Chapter synopsis: Jack calls David charming. A Christmas Carol brings back memories.

Warnings: This waxes SO maudlin at the end. Fear, fear!

Feedback: *wild-eyed pleading* Oh, please, give me feedback. Especially of the constructive variety.

Notes: I couldn't help myself with the sap. I really couldn't; it just came out of nowhere.  Whoah, and I actually did research, of a sort. 'Cause I've never actually read A Christmas Carol myself. So, um, yeah . . . enjoy.

Crunch--If you read this, lol. I was looking at your stuff to try to figure out what you'd like for a First Reviewer™ award. You like Skittery and Race, right? Which one would you like best in a story? Or would you rather have a brief cameo in one of my stories or something?

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A low laugh escaped David's lips. Smiling, he lifted a hand to turn the page.

"Well, well."

David froze, fingers hovering in the air.

"Jack?" he asked warily. Not that he really needed to ask; he'd recognize the warm timbres of Jack's voice anywhere. He just wanted to put off the moment when he'd have to look up and see the smirk on Jack's face. In fact, maybe if he just kept his head lowered like this Jack wouldn't say anything.

"Who else?" No such luck. He could hear the grin. "Aren't you even gonna say 'hey', Davey? I'm wounded."

A wry smile fought its way onto David's face. He shook his head, ruefully, and admitted an early defeat. There was no way he could win this battle. He looked up slowly.

Jack leaned casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. David caught his breath. Standing there, face flushed from the cold outside and hair hanging into his eyes, Jack was . . . well, 'beautiful' wasn't a word he'd usually use to describe Jack, but it was close enough.

'Teasing' was the next word that came to mind. Jack was smiling hugely, laughter in his eyes. David shifted in his seat at the table and forced himself to concentrate on that. Not on how much I wish he would kiss me. Or even just want to kiss me.

"I'd believe that a lot more if you weren't smiling so much." Jack's grin widened. David sighed. "Go on, get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

Jack would have been the picture of innocence if his voice hadn't been shaking with suppressed laughter. David could feel his face heating up.

"Jack . . ."

"I like them."

David stared in surprise. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Jack uncrossed his arms and came further into the room.

"They make you look smart." He paused then laughed. "Well, smarter, anyway. And…charming, I guess is the word."

David opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Charming? Absently, he reached up and adjusted the position of his glasses.

Jack was smiling fondly now, as he took a seat across the table from him. David couldn't help smiling back, his face still warm. Charming?

"I didn't know you wore glasses, Dave. And you still haven't said hello to me."

David laughed. "Hey, Jack. I'm glad to see you." He meant it, of course. He was always happy to see Jack. "They're reading glasses. I only have to wear them when I'm, um, reading."

Jack snorted. "No kiddin'." He rubbed a hand over the tip of his nose. "My nose is frozen. You wouldn't believe how cold it is out there."

That drew another laugh from David and a sympathetic shiver. "Oh, I believe you. I went out earlier this afternoon and it was freezing then. Frozen slush everywhere. I can't imagine what it's like now that it's evening." He shivered again. "I love winter, but I get cold so easily."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Jack answered. "Gotta make you glad you ain't sellin' papes out in this."

"I guess," said David hesitantly. Every time he was reminded about how he had to quit selling with the newsies, he felt sad. Not that having his father healed and back at work was a bad thing. He just missed the daily company of the boys he had fought Pulitzer with. He still got to see them on weekends and every so often during the week, but sometimes it seemed like he was an outsider again. Except for with Jack, who still came by frequently.

Jack seemed to sense some of what he was feeling and changed the subject. "So what're you readin' that's so funny? I heard you laugh when I came in."

"'A Christmas Carol'. I felt like it fit the season after coming in this afternoon." He'd liked the story ever since he'd had to read it for school several years ago.

"Yeah?" Jack said softly, a strange expression on his face. He leaned over the table to look at it. "What's so funny about a bunch of ghosts?"

David smiled. He wasn't surprised that Jack knew the story. Jack was a lot smarter than he let on to most people.

"Just this one passage I was reading." He looked up at Jack, who nodded at him to go ahead. He scanned the page until he found the lines. "'Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.'

"It's from the--" David trailed off as he looked up at Jack.

Jack's eyes were closed and his face was strangely unguarded. David felt his heart twist. He'd never seen Jack look so vulnerable before. After only a slight hesitation, he reached out and placed a hand on Jack's arm.

"Jack?" he said quietly.

Jack started and his eyes flew open. Just as quickly, his face started to close off and he pulled his arm away. David tightened his grip. It pained him to think about Jack hurting and not being able to tell anyone.

"Please, Jack, "he said even more softly. Jack froze, looking at him guardedly. He swallowed, but continued. "Tell me what's wrong. You can trust me."

Jack stared at him for a long moment then nodded abruptly.

"I . . . I've never told anyone else this before." He laughed shakily and ran his free hand through his hair.

David nodded and removed his hand.

"I, well . . . that story brings back memories," Jack started hesitantly. "Good memories, mostly. But, um, it reminds me of my mother."

Comprehension ran cold through David. Jack's mother was dead and if the story reminded him of her no wonder he had reacted that way. He suddenly felt guilty about making Jack so unhappy.

"Jack, I'm so--" he began, but Jack cut him off.

"I know what you're gonna say, Dave, and there's no reason for it. Like I said, they're good memories." Jack paused then went on. "Before she died, she would read it every year. She would read parts out loud to me. Especially the part with the, uh, ghost of Christmas present because I liked that part the best."

Jack blinked rapidly, but then smiled at David. "I guess you readin' out loud just kinda reminded me of that. Not in a bad way," he added quickly. "I always felt safe when she read to me. Like…well, kinda like her voice was wrapped around me."

David's heart was suddenly beating too fast. He made Jack feel like that?

I love him.

He cleared his throat nervously, looking at Jack in wonder. "I could keep reading. If you want."

Jack's smile was brilliant. "Sure."

It was a start.

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Spartacus-- Ah, my faithful reviewer. God bless you, every one . . . *ahem* I mean, thank you for the reviews. I heart them.

Serori--*snickers* "Popcorn eroticism". I'm so never getting over that. Or living it down. Crap.