Author:
Sparks
Email:
LHenry0122@aol.com
Pairing:
Jack/Spot
Rating:
PG
Summary: There is a bit of a scene at a bar. Jack/Spot slash. Can be seen as a predecessor to “The Lover After Me.”
Archives: FF.net and Seize the Night. All others are welcome; just ask.
Dedication:
To Atalanta de Lioncourt, who feeds my obsessions and will watch “Newsies” with
me endlessly. And to Yumie.
Disclaimer: I do not, and make no pretense of, own any
of the characters contained herein.
They are the property of Disney.
*****
“Hey,
Spot!” Across a crowded room, the young
man approached the bar, his hand stretched out in greeting. He picked his way around the tables,
avoiding them easily despite the dim light.
Clearly this was someone who was familiar with this foul hole, who knew
every filthy corner of it. He probably
could have managed quite well without any light at all.
“Kelly.” The voice must have triggered a reply, for
there was not a look up. The second
person only continued to scrutinize the bottom of his shot glass.
“Ain’t
seen you lately.” The young man, one
Jack Kelly, stopped and stood, looming over the drinker. Our Jack was young, probably struggling
through those chasm years. Too old to
exist blithely as a child, but not old enough to be honestly called a man. His clothes were remnants of the former
state; there was a stretch of skin between his ragged coat and even worse
gloves that had turned an angry, late December red.
No
response.
He
tried again, but louder.
Persistent. “Where were ye’ last
night, Spot?”
“Around.” Two syllables, obviously tossed out to
appease.
Quite
an interesting shot glass, this.
“I
thought we was gonna’ to meet.” Jack
sat down, stared at him imploringly.
“We had plans.”
“Yeah,
well, plans change, Jacky-boy.” A hand
was waved, and the bartender materialized, clutching a bottle of scotch. He poured, and then melted back into the
smoky haze from whence he came.
“That’s
what you always say.” Jack was
flustered, staring at his companion.
Who still would not look his way.
He flitted his head this way and that, trying unsuccessfully to make eye
contact.
“Maybe
it’s always true.”
Bam! Jack slammed his fist against the counter
with as much force as he could. Glasses
rattled up and down the bar, drinks sloshing.
The other patrons looked up briefly, but then their attention slid back
to their own liquor and the melodrama of their own lives.
“Look
at me, damn it! Look at me!”
Not
shaken by Jack’s anxious use of violence against defenseless inanimate objects,
the drinker coolly turned his head to face him. Blue-green eyes were murky, but had a sense of bemused curiosity,
as if not sure what the ruckus was about.
Above
all, calm.
Jack
faltered. That complete coolness had
just reinforced his worst fears. He
didn’t matter at all; his bluster had been ignored. Those eyes cared neither for his anguish or his accusations. He meant nothing to them.
“What,
Jacky-boy?” Two perfect eyebrows,
curved smooth as a river bending with the shore, arched heavenward. Below them, the eyes had begun to smile,
although the mouth had the decency to refrain.
“What do want from me?”
Jack
saw the smile, knew the eyes were dancing on the verge of laughter at him. “Never mind.” He shook his head, tried to dislodge whatever it was that made
him care so much. He should never have
came. It was pointless of him to even
try and make a difference, pointless to fall in love with a statue. There was nothing behind those eyes. No warmth, nothing but condescension towards
everyone else, for the rest of the world could never be so beautiful. Nothing to give but marble kisses.
The
comic face softened. The eyes had
stopped their merriness, and were actually sympathetic to Jack’s pain. Sympathetic like seeing a stray dog with its
leg caught in a wire fence. “Oh, don’t
look so glum, Kelly. Tell ye’ what- why
don’t you go home, and we’ll meet up at your lodging house in about half an
hour.”
The
surprise on Jack’s face was palpable.
“Really?” He could not help the
traces of hope that colored his words.
“You mean it?”
“‘Course
I mean it.” Corners of Cupid’s bow lips
finally began to tug upwards into a smile.
“Now, scram. I’ll be off in a
few minutes.”
Jack
stood, and was about to leave when he heard his name.
“Kelly?”
It
made him turn back around. “Yeah?”
The
smile had now spread across the whole face, and it was like the sun had broken
past the clouds to shine on Jack.
“Don’t be such a girl.”
Poor
Jack started for a moment, stung. His
eyes flashed pain, but it was quickly suppressed. “See you at the lodging house in thirty minutes,” he reminded,
but he had already lost the drinker’s attention.
He
took one last look, and then weaved his way out the door, shivering as the
familiar cold hit him. Cold inside, and
cold out.
Back
at the bar, Spot ordered another drink.
When the bartender looked questioningly at him, he said, “I gots time;
he’ll wait. It’s not like he’s going
anywhere anytime soon.”
*****
The
End
*****