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The Christmas celebration at the Crozier-Fitzjames home was off to a marvelous start. It was a massive party held by the esteemed naval veterans with Captain and Lady Franklin as the guests of honor. The crews of both the Erebus and Terror - except Cornelius Hickey, who detested the holidays - were in attendance. Christmas, all twelve days of it, were supposedly the best time of the year for many people.
John Hartnell included.
Although he enjoyed the dinner, the singing, and all the other grand parts of this sparkling time, he found that his mind could only focus upon one thought only: John Torrington. His lovely, wonderful John. The blonde that had captured his heart and clutched it in a vice grip.
This was not the monomania of an anxious person, but an exhilaration. He was fueled by a secret thrill which no one - not even Tom - knew of. Not even the most gruesome winter night's tale could frighten him. Hartnell was going to make tonight the best Christmas either of them had in their lives.
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"How are you finding tonight, my darling?" Hartnell sided up to Torrington and kissed his cheek.
"Tolerable, my Johnny." The blond replied. "The ghost tales are nothing; been more afeared of soot-covered miners goin' across the fields at night..." He sighed and took a long sip of punch. "Drink is tasty, loaded though. Put a match in the bowl and you'll have a fire."
"That loaded, yeah? Does it even have any taste besides alcohol?" He smirked, he would probably need a cup or three himself.
"Leave it to Crozier." Torrington replied, trying his best to stifle a giggle.
"I'm glad you're having a wonderful time. I am, too."
"Any time I spend with you is wonderful." The stoker looked up at his lover, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Merry Christmas."
"Maybe we should find a spot to be alone." Hartnell suggested. "I'd like to talk with you."
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Even the disused sitting room in the south wing of the manor was decorated, smelling delightfully of fir and spice with candles accompanying the blown glass gas lamps. Hartnell led Torrington in and shut the door. The clamor of the party now receded, the seaman rested on a fine ottoman, beckoning his beloved to join him.
The young stoker sat on his lap, comforted by the feeling of Hartnell's strong arm around him.
"I take I'm not in trouble?" He asked, chuckling.
"No." Hartnell answered, kissing his forehead. "Its just nice being alone with you." Another kiss on his mouth. "I love you."
"I love you back."
"I know." He gave a soft sigh, digging into his vest pocket. "So, I wanted to talk with y-No, I wanted to give you something, I couldn't wait until Boxing Day-"
"Jart, I thought we had an agreement. No gifts, remember?" Torrington told him. It was true, they did have an arrangement beforehand; they would forgo gifts until they both had the means to.
"Yes, but Tor-" he swallowed. "This isn't a gift."
"There's more to Christmas than things, John." Torrington stood up, anger flashing in his eyes. "I don't have the money to get you anything, but here you go, trying to pass somethin' off on me-"
"Listen here, calm down." He stood in front of the stoker; he towered over him thanks to the near eight inch difference in height. "You need to swallow this pride you've got and listen to me John."
"You say I've got pride, you're the one who's being selfish!"
"Only because I love you!" Hartnell removed the little drawstring pouch and pushed it into Torrington's hand. "You don't even-"
"John, I can't take this." He shook his head. "Whatever gift you got me, I can't. It's not proper. I have nothing."
"You have me, isn't that enough?"
"I love you, but I'm sorry. I really am." Torrington shook his head, shoving the bag back at him. "Please understand. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. The sailor loomed over him, hazel eyes filled with disappointment, growing wet with tears.
As he watched Torrington walk away, the words came to him too late. He threw the bag at the closed door.
"It's not a bloody gift! It's a fucking commitment, Torrington!"
Alone in the bright, blissfully scented sitting room he tried to hold back his tears, but failed.
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"What's got you down, eldest brother?" Tom Hartnell put his arm around the despondent John. "Too much of the good drink got ya down?" The way he slurred made it obvious he'd been well in the 'good drink'.
"If it was only that simple, Tommy." John groaned. "I was going to ask Torrington to marry me-"
"And ya've got cold feet already? You're crazy about that little coal goblin. But you shoulda told me you're gonna get married, brother dear. I'll be your best man, yeah." He smiled wide.
"He refused me! 'You're being selfish' he says, but I'm being selfish because I love him! He didn't even see the ring, Tom!" Hartnell wiped the tears from his eyes.
"No one could ever turn you down; you're a top notch lad!" Tom exclaimed. "You've got broad, broad shoulders, your muscles are to die for, you're built like damn Hercules." He poked his older brother's shoulder as he spoke. "And those sideburns; you're a treat for anyone. Even an old queen would take a bite of you-" He paused, giggling. "-But I don't think you're Fitzjames' type!"
Tom's howling laughter at his own joke nor his flattery lifted John's spirits. As his younger brother stopped his antics and slumped onto his shoulder, he murmured, "I meant every word of that. You're perfect. You'll be okay..."
"Can I have some of that?" He asked, taking Tom's glass. He sniffed what remained before tossing it back. "Christ, what's-?"
"Stopped being punch 'bout...four hours ago." Tom replied, talking more to himself than his brother. "Just brandy and cognac in there, the fancy wee cherries just make you think its still-" he paused, catching his thoughts. "Rum punch. Nay, its just rum now, boys."
"No wonder you're such a wreck." The elder Hartnell finally smiled as he finished off the glass.
"Thank you." Tom snuggled even closer to his brother. "Y've got me even when the universe falls apart..." He yawned, fatigue overcoming him.
"You're very welcome. Now, lets try and get you settled somewhere, you'll have a pain worse than anything the Devil could give you in the morning, I warn you of that. And I just might too."
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At an hour past midnight, nearly everyone had retired to either one of the many bedrooms or various other rooms to sleep off their debauchery or pass the time until Christmas Day.
John Torrington however sat in front of the main fireplace, the warm light making the ornate marble mantle glow. He sighed deeply, using the poker to keep the flames burning absentmindedly.
He hadn't wanted to spend Christmas Eve alone. He had been looking forward to spending it with Hartnell. The stoker had thought about going to Braine, but he had decided against it. He leaned back on the rug - made from an unfortunate polar bear in the Arctic - and gazed into the roaring flames. The youth had probably lost the love of this life. Why did I let my pride get in the way? Was it even pride?
Torrington wiped his eyes even though he had no tears. He groaned softly as he rolled the coals around on the hearth, drawing his knees up to his chest.
"Can't sleep?" He was startled suddenly by a voice coming from behind him.
"I-" the blond's words were lodged in his throat. "No, I never w-went to sleep..."
"May I sit with you, beside you?" Hartnell was always so gentlemanly with him for some reason Torrington couldn't even fathom. Though he was bewildered, he nodded.
"Did you sleep?"
"If I did, I don't feel rested." Hartnell shook his head. "I made sure Tom slept, he got thoroughly squizzed so I had to get him to bed. But what is a brother, if not a means to cause mischief?"
"Was he the one singing? I swore I heard someone singing 'The Holly and the Ivy'." He gave Hartnell a faint smile.
"Sadly, yes. Could have been worse, 'I Saw Three Ships'..." The older sailor shrugged. "Okay, John...I want to..." He fiddled with his sleeve. "I don't want to ruin your Christmas, alright? I'm sorry I upset you. I was a fool-"
"I should be the one apologizing." Torrington felt some indescribable emotion welling forth. "I hurt you on such a wonderful holiday. I'm so sorry John."
Hartnell moved closer to him.
"All is forgiven, my dearest. But I want you to listen to me now, and listen well. I need to tell you something." He took one of his beloved's hand, small and calloused, between his own.
"Yes?"
"I want to start by saying you look absolutely beautiful in the firelight. You always have." He took a hand and stroked Torrington's loose curls. "And your eyes, they sparkle like sunlight on the ocean. Like aquamarine or sapphire. But I know you could care less about gemstones."
"And you look beautiful, too." The stoker whispered in return. "Your eyes make me think of a peat bog."
"A peat bog?" Hartnell gave a chuckle.
"They can be very romantic spots."
Hartnell kissed his forehead, taking his small lover in his arms.
"What I was going to-" he swallowed his nerves and breathed deeply. "I should have been clearer. What I was going to give you...It wasn't a gift."
"Please, Jart."
"No, no, shhh." He took the drawstring bag from his pocket. "At least look at it." He put the bag in Torrington's hand.
The blonde nodded and stroked the fabric with his fingers. He opened it, letting what was inside tumble out. The object glittered in the light. He held it between his thumb and forefinger; it was all silver and jet-
"This is-" he felt his face grow hot. "Jart, its beautiful."
"You know I brought you back there because I was going to ask you to marry me."
Torrington said nothing, but stared into his hazel eyes.
"Oh, oh..." He threw his arms around the sailor. "I'm sorry I ruined it." He finally began to cry. "The ring is so wonderful-"
"Its coal, you know that? I looked until I found the nicest bit of coal, just for you." He held the young stoker close to his body. "You see the beauty in it; you don't care about the diamond that could form."
"You're my diamond, Jart." He kissed Hartnell lightly, a smile on his face.
"John Shaw Torrington, will you marry me?"
"I'd be right daft to not say yes."
"Marry me-"
"Yes, yes. My love..." He kissed Hartnell again; his kisses were returned with a passion neither had felt before. Their hearts were pounding and both trembled with excitement.
"I'll make sure you're taken care of from now on." The taller one whispered. "I promise you that."
"We'll take care of each other."
"I'll make sure we have what we need. But I'd risk the poorhouse to make you happy."
"I won't let you; it doesn't take a lot to make me happy..."
"John, I love you." Hartnell pulled him close; Torrington seemed so small in his muscular arms. "Let me give you the love you need, right here. Until the fire dies."
"Father Christmas won't come." Torrington's smile was teasing.
"Bah, let him pass us up then!"
"It'll be worth it when I'm married to you."
Hartnell grinned. He'd been right all along; it really was the best Christmas ever.