Title: the dearest remembrance will still be the last
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Lord Byron
Warnings: spoilers for 4.12
Pairings: one-sided Jay/Charlie
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 290
Point of view: third
Hey, kid, wanna see a trick?
o0o
Jay was twelve when they met, Charlie a worldly fifteen. Jay was cheating at cards in the backroom of a bar he shouldn't have set foot in, but the proprietor was one of Pop's friends.
He was playing with three dock workers, men who didn't have much and didn't like being fleeced by a kid, so when George Markos realized Jay was cheating, he picked Jay up by his collar and would have kicked the snot out of him.
But Charlie stepped in, smooth-talked George down, and bought a round for all three men, then ushered Jay out.
"Kid," he said, "you really gotta be better before you try that con again."
o0o
Jay was twenty-five when they met, Vernon pulling a dove out of mid-air. Charlie was scoping out hotels, Jay walking around the boardwalk. Vernon was telling people to pick a card, any card, and Jay watched his sleight of hand: good, but not as good as Charlie. No one was as good as Charlie.
Jay invited Vernon to supper and Vernon said yes.
o0o
They were closer than friends; the three of them became family. Jay always wondered what would happen if he leaned down and tasted Charlie's lips, but he never quite found the courage, and then they were old. They were so old. They were the walking dead; pretty soon, the Reaper would come with his scythe and Jay would be out of chances.
He was so tired of being weak, being a laughingstock, being too afraid to see what Charlie's lips tasted like.
When he didn't die, he vowed to kiss Charlie. When he survived the next night, he made the same vow.
He never did kiss Charlie.