Snow

David looked down at the floor. All his life he'd either been ignored or told not to worry, passed by or been soothed. He'd never had anyone talk to him the way Alec did, never had anything he said challenged.

He'd never really been listened to.

"I know I think you're wrong," he said quietly.

"Look around you," Alec said furiously. "You know what you have? A couple of pieces of furniture, a few blankets. Enough food to get through the week, maybe. That's nothing. There's nothing in your life worth holding on to."

"You're wrong," David said again and looked up, looked at Alec.

"Oh yeah? Name one thing, then. Just one."

"You."

Alec sucked in a breath and took a step toward him, eyes dark and hot in the firelight. "David,"

he said softly and David stood perfectly still, waiting. Then Alec stopped, put his hands on the table. A muscle was twitching in his jaw. "You shouldn't have bought me anything."

"I wanted to."

"It's a waste of money."

"It'll make your hands hurt less."

"How do you know they hurt?"

"Gladys said her hands always hurt. She said--" he took a breath. "She says it's dark there. In the mines. That it's always dark. Is it?"

Alec shrugged, opened the salve and sniffed it.

"That's why you live here," David said. "You pay more than anyone else, you know. Gladys told me. But you have a window. You like the light."

"I'm going to bed," Alec said, and his voice was sharp, abrupt.

"Good night," David said. He didn't know what else to say.

Alec didn't reply for a long time. But when he was up in the loft, nothing but a shadow David could see lit by firelight, he spoke. "Thanks for the salve. You shouldn't have--you shouldn't waste money on me."

"I wanted to buy it."

"It won't help."

"I don't like thinking of your hurt," David said. "In the dark. It's not--I want you to be happy."

"I'm happy," Alec said softly, slowly, like he didn't want to but had to.

David looked at him but Alec's shadow was gone, tucked down into his bed. David stared at the fire and thought. Hoped. And for the first time ever, planned.

He didn't make dinner the next night. He built a fire instead, piling on the wood and not being careful to make sure it was arranged so he could cook over it. He built a fire that flickered fast and glowing like the way Alec made him feel and then pulled his chair over toward it, put it next to Alec's.

"Kind of smoky in here," Alec said when he came in, taking off his jacket like he always did.

"How much wood did you put on the fire?" He looked over at David and then froze for a moment, eyes narrowing.

"What's this?" he said quietly.

"I thought--I thought you might want to sit by the fire."

"No," Alec said slowly, pointing at the two chairs. "What's this." It wasn't a question.

"I thought--I thought we could sit together."

"Why would I want to sit with you?"

"You don't hate me," David said. "Why do you try and act like you do?"

"Because of what will happen if I don't."

"But what if I want something to happen?"

"Why should I care what you want?" Alec said and his voice was harsh. Scared.

"I don't know," David said. "No one ever really has. Why do you?"

"I don't know," Alec said, and looked away from him for a moment, stared at the fire. "I shouldn't," he said softly. "I know that. I do anyway." He looked back at David. "But you already know that, don't you?"

"Yes," David said. "I see it in your eyes." He took a step forward, closer to Alec. Almost close enough to touch. He stared at Alec's hands, waiting.

"This isn't what you really want," Alec said and looked down at his hands, turned them so David could see the dust coated heavy on them, how even the pads of his fingers had been worn down, scoured away by the mines. His voice sounded weary, sure.

"What do you see in my eyes?" David said, and reached out, took Alec's hands in his.

Alec looked at him.

"David," he said softly, pleadingly, his hands shaking against David's own.

David kissed him. He thought about cold, about ice, fleetingly, a thread of worry cut away by Alec's hands on him again, finally, by the sounds he heard himself making as their mouths met and clung.

He climbed up the ladder first. Alec pulled it out of the wall carefully, watching him the whole time, eyes solemn and heated. The sheets were worn and soft under his hands. He could hear Alec behind him, turned around and saw him watching him from the edge of the bed, one hand still curled around the ladder. He reached for him.

"You don't have to do that," Alec said, voice cracking, and David shook his head and said, "I want to," softly, helplessly. Alec made a noise deep in his throat and kissed him, teeth grazing David's lower lip.

"Can I touch you?" David asked hesitantly as Alec's mouth moved down his neck, gasping as he bit his throat and then arching up toward his mouth.

Alec laughed sharply, and there was a hint of bitterness in his voice when he said, "Why are you even asking? You already are."

And he was. His hands were echoing Alec's, sliding under clothes, over skin. He drew his fingers away.