Christmas Carol Redux

by Darklady-in-exile

Pairing: Scrooge/Marley

Inspiration: Watching the classic black-and-white movie version. You should *see* how Scrooge and Marley smirk at each other - from their first meeting. These are two men *meant* for each other. And then Marley dies at Christmas. Breathing his last words in Scrooge's arms. No wonder Scrooge hates the season. And - as a last proof? When Scrooge reforms? He makes it up to all the other people in his life, but he does *not* go back to his old girlfriend. Cannon enough for me!

Rated: PG

Disclaimer: Copyright? Humbug! Mr. Marley and Mr. Scrooge are the creations of Charles Dickens, not of myself. But he's dead, and I'm still here - so I get to play with them.

Archive: Anywhere I post it. All others please ask.

Dedicated: To Tinn - who managed to follow me into the virtual morass of bad web, and thus inspire. Merry Christmas.

Apologies: If this falls a tad short of my usual standards. You have no idea how restricted my resources are just now.

Christmas Carol Redux

by Darklady-in-exile

"What? Mr. Scrooge?" A tall man in his late twenties, shawl pulled close around his broad shoulders, shivered a bit as he stepped from the chill back office to the even colder front counting room.

December had been bitter in London this year, and the last weeks harsher then the first. All the lesser sorts had eagerly taken
themselves off to warmer halls as soon as the excuse of Christmas Eve could permit it, leaving only the twin proprietors of the shipping house of Marley and Scrooge to finish the days business.

Marley stepped up to the counting desk resting his half-gloved hands on the hunched shoulders of his partner. "Busy until the last minute? I should have thought to find you at the pub."

The blond man so addressed dipped his quill once more. entering a few more figures before clapping shut the heavy ledger. "Truly, Mr. Marley?" Scrooge turned on his stool, offering a smile whiter then the packed snow outside. "What should I find there better then my business here?"

Marley bent down, resting his cheek briefly on the blond curls. "I thought this seasons business was the care of our fellow man? Or was that not the sermon?"

"Indeed." Scrooge answered. His warm baritone carried warmth enough to heat the frozen chamber. "I know just the fellow to have a care for." He raised his lips to his partner, and for a long moment no further words disrupted the still hall.

It was a good quarter hour before Marley forced himself back. "You have to go."

"I know." Scrooge straightened his lapels and rebuttoned the heavy great-coat that had minutes before yielded to questing fingers. Fingers that were now forced back to the less joyous task of arranging their own clothing.

"Take care." Marley whispered.

Scrooge bit his lip. "Are you quite certain you will not come with me?"

"Now, Mr. Scrooge." Marley's voice was hearty. Almost jovial. His colleagueial demeanor that used for the 'fellows' of the shipping yard. Scrooge alone could catch the bitter edge below the bonhomie. "I hardly think that your brother in law would want a stranger under his roof at this season."

"But" Scrooge shook his head. "He must welcome you. You are my partner."

"And if he knew the truth of that, I should be even less welcome."

Scrooge leaned forward. half concession and half plea."It will be dreadful without you."

"It would be more dreadful with me." Marley pressed him back gently, settling the slighter man on his counting stool."Trust me on that." He raised the other's hand to his lips, kissing gently the blue-white tips of every exposed finger. "I would not have your affections cost you your kin as my folly did mine." Marley pressed the knit-covered palm softly against his cheek before releasing it with a sudden finality. "Go home, Ebinezier Scrooge. Drink the wassail. Eat the plum pudding. Dance with that silly girl. Flora. Was that her name? I will be content that, come the new year, you will come back to me."

"Marley." Scrooge stood, pressing himself against his partners now-unyielding length.

Marley stepped back, turning away. "Christmas is for them, Mr. Scrooge. Not for such men as ourselves."

"Scrooge felt his face harden, lids dropping to cover the pained tears in his eyes. "Then Christmas, Mr. Marley, is a humbug."

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FINIS

Now: Anyone out there willing to do Tiny Tim?