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Chapter 6 Holiday in the Streets

Harry finally got a coat in late November. So did Jason. They went together to check out the same street donation box Harry had found his hoodie, hat, and gloves, and found that someone had donated two winter coats, along with matching hats, scarves, and waterproof gloves, and it was all still in really good condition. It was like the family realized the kids had outgrown it on the way to the grocery store, and felt it less of a bother to toss it in the box than take it to an actual thrift store. The coats were clearly meant for young teenagers, not kids, so even Jason was swimming in the bigger one. But they were warm and waterproof, and they took the hats and gloves, too, just in case.

After several minutes of admiring their new outerwear, though, Jason reluctantly stuffed everything but the coat into his backpack. Harry tilted his head in confusion.

Jason smiled faintly. "This stuff is too nice right now; we'll stick out like a sore thumb back in the Alley. And a scarf isn't a good idea anyway unless it's really cold."

'So we can wrestle on the street and scuff it up,' Harry signed, grinning. He hadn't spoken in nearly a month, though the incident with the fear gas had almost faded into a bad memory. Just when Harry thought he might be over it, though, the nightmares came back.

Jason laughed aloud. "All right, squirt. Let's go, then." He led the way to a stand of neglected landscape along the back of the grocery store parking lot, backing up against a tall wooden fence separating the parking lot from the apartment complex behind it. No one parked back there besides delivery trucks and the rare employee, and it wasn't a delivery day. On a wider patch of sorry-looking grass and mud, Jason put the new winter gear back on and went into a ready stance.

"Show me what you've got, little hawk," he said, smirking, beckoning to Harry.

Grinning, Harry assumed a similar ready stance, then went in for a tackle. Jason grabbed him around the waist and flipped him on the ground, but Harry caught Jason's wrist and yanked him down, too.

"Not bad," Jason said, laughing as they got to their feet. "Again."

Harry obliged, this time going for a sweeping kick. They started out practicing the few martial arts moves they'd learned over the last month and a half, but after a few rounds and Harry cheating when Jason used his height to an unfair advantage, it eventually devolved into actual, playful wrestling, full of laughter and teasing insults—though Harry leaned on rude or insulting hand gestures. Neither of them minded the mud and dirt. Harry wrestled Jason onto the parking lot and made it a point to scrape their coats against the concrete as they both grappled for the upper hand.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, they both lay sprawled on the damp concrete, coats and hats askew, covered in mud and grime from the ground, panting and grinning widely up at the overcast winter sky.

Harry tapped Jason's shoulder to get his attention, then signed, 'Think the Alley will accept us now?'

Jason sat up, inspecting himself and Harry. He brushed off the caked mud, but the coats were still covered in scuff marks, grass stains, and smears of dirt.

"I reckon so," Jason replied, grinning. He stood up, then offered Harry a hand down. "And if we ever need ta go somewhere nice, a quick wipe-down'll take care of the mud."

Harry nodded and took Jason's hand. The older boy pulled him to his feet, then kept Harry's hand as they skirted around the back of the grocery store and set their course back toward the Alley.

Days later, at the beginning of December, Harry helped Jason inventory and reorganize their supplies. In the process, Harry unearthed his dark green hoodie from the bottom of a stack of blankets.

His breath caught and he dropped it immediately, taking three steps back. But other than a quick flash of memory and the momentary panic, Harry discovered that he was okay.

"You all right, Harry?" Jason asked.

Harry nodded hesitantly. 'I'm okay. I think...the color is dark enough that I don't mind it so much.' He smiled a little. 'I'm glad. I missed my hoodie.'

"What, you don't like the red one?"

Harry's smile grew a little bigger. 'I like it better when you wear it.'

"Well, damn. Guess I'd better put it on, then." Grinning, Jason tossed off his grey hoodie, shivering a little in the cold air of the room.

Grinning back, Harry pulled the red hoodie off and passed it back to Jason, then, taking a deep breath, he pulled the green one back on.

Jason pulled the oversized red hoodie on, then pulled it close. "Wow. You runnin' hot or somethin', kid? This is super warm."

Harry shook his head, then burrowed into Jason's chest, smiling against the familiar red fabric.

"Love you, Jay," Harry barely whispered.

Jason froze, then drew Harry into a tight hug, pressing his nose into Harry's hair. "Love you, too, little hawk." His voice was hoarse.

A warmth that had nothing to do with the hoodies settled over Harry. He hugged Jason tighter, his fingers clutching the back of the hoodie. But his eyes were open, and Harry smiled at seeing his green sleeve against Jason's red side.

"We look like Christmas," he whispered.

Jason laughed. It sounded wet. "Yeah, we do."

Harry's words came back gradually. Simple things he had no problem saying out loud. With more complicated or more emotionally charged topics, though, Harry mostly reverted back to sign language. And there were a lot of those as Christmas approached. It was Harry's first Christmas alone. Although he'd always been forced to help cook Christmas dinner, clean up after Dudley opened his presents, and do tons of chores, even the Dursleys had had enough good will to give him a fair portion of the meal he helped make, and some years he even got a slice of pie. It was also Harry's first Christmas fully conscious of his parents' deaths, knowing that the car crash his relatives had informed him of was, in fact, a lie—and a hard one to swallow at that. He couldn't help but wonder what else they may have lied to him about.

For Jason, it was his third Christmas on the streets, but he still held bittersweet memories of before that always crept up around the holidays. It was also coming up on the anniversary of his mother's death. He didn't tell Harry any details, but from other comments Jason had made, Harry had deduced that it had something to do with drugs, and that Jason had been the one to find her.

And Harry and Jason weren't the only ones who had a hard time with the upcoming holidays. Halfway through December, roughly two weeks before Christmas, Harry went to visit Tim while Jason did whatever he did at night. He was reluctant to share, but it usually resulted in more food or extra cash, so Harry didn't pry too hard. (He was afraid of what the answers would be. As long as he didn't ask, Harry could pretend he didn't know.)

Shivering even with his new coat and scarf, Harry watched the clouds gather and thicken across the sky from his favorite rooftop. He wondered if it would snow before the night was out. It might be nice. Harry had heard it snowed a lot in Gotham. Harry had only ever seen a few centimeters at a time; Surry didn't get much snow. Just a lot of cold rain and occasionally sleet.

Soft footsteps interrupted Harry's musings. He turned and smiled as Tim crossed the roof and settled next to him. He was wearing a dark navy winter coat now, instead of the fleece like before, and a plain black beanie. Instead of the medical mask, a thick, dark blue scarf was wrapped around his neck. Slung over one shoulder was his ever-present camera bag, and on his back hung the usual backpack.

"Hi, Harry," Tim greeted—with considerably less enthusiasm than usual.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked aloud—the first time speaking aloud to Tim since before Halloween.

Tim gasped, then grabbed Harry in a tight hug. "Welcome back," he said, grinning.

"I never really left, you know," Harry replied. He kept his voice soft, the deeply ingrained instinct for silence harder to overcome after yielding to it for so long.

"I know. But you talking again means you're over it, right? Well, not over over it, but mostly over it. Right? It took me almost six months to talk again. Of course, there wasn't really anyone to talk to, because I wasn't in school yet. Just my nanny, who didn't like noise anyway. And then—sorry. I'm rambling again." Tim smiled sheepishly.

"I don't mind rambling," Harry replied. "So did you bring hot chocolate?"

Tim laughed. "Always." He pulled out his thermos and portioned it out, then passed Harry the full cup-slash-lid.

"This is why you're my best friend." Harry took a long, deep drink, letting the chocolate warm him from the inside out. It settled a little uncomfortably in his empty stomach—he hadn't eaten since half a granola bar at noon, since their food stocks were running out again—but it was still delicious.

Tim flushed and took a sip of his own. For a few minutes, they just sat in companionable silence, enjoying their cocoa and each other's presence.

Finally, though, Harry re-asked his question from before. "So is everything okay?"

Tim set the thermos aside and pulled his knees up to his chest. "My parents told me they'd be back for Christmas. But they always say that. They haven't been here for Christmas since I was five. So I'm trying really, really hard not to get my hopes up. It always hurts worse when I do."

Harry opened his mouth, then hesitated. But then he pressed on. "If they don't show up...you could spend Christmas with Jason and me. I'd have to ask him, and you probably don't want to spend Christmas in a cold, empty apartment. But I'd like you guys to meet eventually. It...it would be nice, to…" The words wouldn't come. 'To spend Christmas with both my brothers,' Harry finished signing, looking away so he wouldn't have to see the rejection.

"That's a great idea!" Tim exclaimed.

"R-really?"

Tim nodded excitedly. "If…if my parents don't come, maybe you could come to my house? There won't be anyone there but me, and we can watch movies, and play games, and maybe I can figure out how to cook for real and we could even have a Christmas dinner together!" Then Tim hesitated. "Is…is it bad that now I kind of don't want them to come? I mean, I do, I really, really do, but…I really want to meet Jason and spend time with you, too."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think it's bad. They're barely home. You barely know them. I…I used to…" Harry sighed and went back to signing. 'My relatives never really let me be part of Christmas. When I was really little, I'd imagine what it would be like, to actually be part of the family instead...instead of on the outside. Imagining hurt, though, when I had to face the truth. But every year until I was six, I still looked forward to the fantasy.'

Tim nodded, pulling his knees in a bit more. "Fantasy. Yeah. I want the fantasy." He hugged his knees tighter. "I really, really want it. But...if I get my hopes up...it'll hurt worse when—if—it falls apart."

Harry nodded. "Hope…hurts," he said quietly. Because he'd felt the longing, watching families do Christmas shopping together, or playing together in the park. He'd seen the same longing on Jason's face, too, when the older boy thought he wasn't looking.

"Mhm." Tim leaned into Harry's side, shivering slightly. "But maybe, even if my parents do come, once they leave again, you and Jason can still come over, and we can do a late Christmas together."

"Yeah."

Almost on cue, the first snowflakes started drifting down. Tim pulled out his camera and took a few shots of the skyline. Then, with a faint smile, he turned the camera around and nudged Harry's shoulder.

"Say it."

Harry smiled back and the two of them chorused, "Twins."

The shutter clicked, and Tim nudged his way under Harry's arm as he pulled up the latest photo.

Harry almost forgot to look, because the way Tim was curled into Harry's side was exactly the way Harry curled up against Jason when the older boy read to him. Unfamiliar emotions flowed through him, but above them all was affection and protectiveness.

Was this how Jason felt about Harry?

The idea was a little overwhelming.

Tim nudged him, and Harry refocused on the camera. The two boys on the screen were smiling, but there was a sense of sadness there.

A huge, fluffy snowflake landed on the screen, making Harry blink and look up. The snow was falling heavily now. It would be dangerous going down the fire escape if they waited much longer.

"Guess it's time to go."

"Just a few more pictures," Tim whined.

"You can stay, I guess. Though I don't recommend it. But if I get wet, I won't be properly dry again 'til March," Harry quipped, only half joking. "Just be careful?"

"I will." Tim burrowed into Harry's side again, prompting Harry to wrap his arms around the smaller boy. "Be safe."

"I will." Harry pressed his nose into Tim's hair, the way Jason always did to him. It felt nice to be the one giving the affection, instead of always receiving it. Tim melted against him, giving a small hum of pleasure that made Harry smile.

Maybe, maybe he did still have something to give.