Work Text:
“It’s okay, Kid,” said Mush. He stuffed the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his papers into his coat pocket. “I’ll get on just fine, with or without gloves. Hey, maybe it might even improve my sales.”
“I dunno about that,” Blink mumbled. Even if Mush hadn’t gone and forgotten his only pair of gloves that were either sitting in his locker or buried somewhere in his bedsheets right now, they didn’t do much to combat the cold anyway. Barely even gloves anymore, they were more like a couple of threads of yarn held together by willpower alone. “I think they gave folks an idea of somethin’ they could help you save up for.”
Mush wrinkled his nose at that. “Y’know Kid, I’ll never understand why we gotta make ourselves look like orphans when that’s already what we is.”
“A kid who makes you feel sorry for ‘im on sight is already a winner,” said Blink, patting Mush’s arm. “That’s why you always got your work cut out for you.”
Mush nodded objectively. He only realized what he’d been agreeing to a few moments later, lagging behind on the sidewalk as the implications began to dawn on him. He hurried to sync back into step with his friend.
“Whaddya mean by that, Kid?” Mush asked. Blink didn’t look at him, or even respond. He just smirked.
Mush frowned, and didn’t ask again, even though he wanted to know the answer so bad he could scarcely think of anything else. Except papers, of course. His hands were starting to freeze up, despite it hardly being halfway into the morning yet.
It was seasonably cold out, the gloomy sort of December weather that drove business indoors quickly and left them slim pickings outside. The air was so sharp Mush was sure it had bitten him a good ten times already. Where the sky wasn’t grey, it was black, promising snow and a minefield of ice by tomorrow morning. Crutchy had said as much at the gates, and Crutchy’s forecasts were never wrong.
Blink followed Mush’s gaze up to the clouds, giving a low whistle. “Sheesh. Wouldja look at that?”
“Crutchy was right.”
“He ain’t right yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mush.”
“He ain’t wrong yet, either,” Mush countered in defense of their friend. “Hey, maybe the snow’ll be deep enough that we can make snow angels and stuff.”
Blink didn’t know what the extra “stuff” Mush was referring to entailed, and wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. Blink hated the winter, for more reasons than just the cold. But just like always, if Mush wanted him to do something, Blink would do it, without having to be told twice.
“Or maybe, we’ll lose all our buttons and catch a cold,” Blink sighed.
There just wasn’t anything to like about winter. It was so cold at night that going outside for any reason wasn’t an option, unless, of course, the building was on fire, defeating the purpose of sitting out on the steps for a cigarette to begin with. Ice paved every street and sidewalk, which wasn’t enough on its own apparently, so a layer of snow always had to be covering it to deceive anyone who dared for a moment to think that they were really safe. Blink’s socks were always damp, shoes completely soaked through by the end of the day.
Clothes were harder to come by, too. Since everybody needed boots and scarves all of a sudden, the prices were jacked up. Mush probably wouldn’t be able to buy himself a new pair of gloves even if he wanted to. One of the good things about living at the lodging house was that sometimes the Children’s Aid Society gave out clothes to the kids who needed them. Not new clothes, but they worked just fine. Anything was better than freezing, a fact Blink had learned a long time ago.
Maybe that was why he kept looking over at Mush, studying closely the way he took his right hand out of his pocket a good several times just to touch his left one. His fingers curled hard around his papers, knuckles strained, losing the feeling in his hands quicker than he cared to admit after starting the day so optimistically.
Blink quickly gauged the distance back to the lodging house. “You doin’ okay, Mush?”
Mush looked startled, then smiled at him. “‘Course I am, Kid. Never better, even.”
“You ain’t cold any?”
Mush hesitated. He didn’t want Blink to worry about him, but he didn’t want to lie, either, especially not right in his friend’s face.
“A little,” Mush admitted, settling for a harmless half-truth. “But I’ll be okay, Kid. You don’t hafta worry about me.”
Blink grunted, unconvinced. He wasn’t so sure a day had ever passed where he didn’t worry about Mush, who wasn’t even the daring sort. Maybe that said more about Blink than it did about Mush.
“Say, if you want, we could run back to the lodge and-”
“I’m okay!” Mush interrupted, startled by the volume of his voice. “I’m okay,” he repeated more softly. “Don’t worry, Kid. If I wanna do that, I’ll tell you. But I don’t, ‘cause I’m just fine.” Truthfully the thought of walking all the way back to the lodging house when they were already more than several blocks away, not to mention right in the middle of selling, made Mush’s heart drop. He also didn’t want to trouble Blink for something that happened to be all his fault. He should’ve remembered his gloves, Kloppman had even reminded him when he came into the dormitory to wake everybody up. The sooner they got through the day without interruption, the better.
“Then lemme buy you a new pair,” Blink insisted. Absentmindedly his palm ghosted over his pocket, thinking of the generous dent in his finances if he went and did a thing like that. “Think of it as an early Christmas present.”
Mush’s eyes went wide, and he stopped walking. Blink nearly bumped into him. “You don’t hafta do that, Kid. That’s burglary! I wouldn’t be able to pay you back, at least not for…” Mush began to count on his fingers, which Blink could’ve sworn were starting to turn blue.
Blink waved his hand to dismiss whatever train of thought Mush was about to take off on. “You don’t hafta pay me back for a gift, Mush. It’ll be free of charge.”
Mush shifted, looking disheartened. “I don’t think I’d feel very good about that.”
Blink opened his mouth to keep protesting. He ended up sighing in defeat. Only Mush would want to pay somebody back for a present.
“That’s a real shame,” Blink said. He considered buying Mush gloves anyway and lying about the price, if he was that bound and determined to pay Blink back.
A present later didn’t stop Mush from being cold right now, however. He had started to shiver, and to his credit didn’t offer up a word of complaint about it. Mush had never been the complaining type, which had caused a fair share of trouble all by itself.
Not all that long after, an idea struck Blink, the sort that emboldened him to do wild things. To be fair, it didn’t take a lot for Kid Blink to do wild things, but this was different. Abruptly, Blink seized Mush’s sleeve, pulling him off the street and into the closest alleyway.
Blink leaned his right shoulder against the wall where they’d stopped, tucking his elbow into his side to keep hold of his papers as he pulled off one of his own gloves. He hauled Mush closer by the front of his coat, gesturing for his free hand. Mush gave it thoughtlessly, he trusted Blink. Blink put the glove on it for him, noting with satisfaction that Mush looked warmer already.
“A compromise,” Blink declared. “You can give it back when I get you your present. How about that?”
Mush made no move to reiterate how he didn’t want anything costly from Blink, mostly because for a moment, Mush couldn’t speak. He waited for Blink to let go of his hand. When that didn't happen, Mush’s gaze traveled up to Blink's face. His friend was staring at him, blue eye sharp and counting on his response.
Mush didn’t even think he needed new gloves anymore. A wave of heat swept through him, taking all his composure with it. His hand was numb, but somehow he could feel Blink holding it anyway.
“All right,” Mush softly conceded.
An easy grin spread across Blink’s face, and he knew he’d won. “Feels better?”
Surely Blink knew that it was far too soon to notice a difference already. But with the way Blink was looking at him right now, that didn't even come to Mush’s mind.
“Yeah,” said Mush. “It does. Thanks, Kid.”