Twelve Days of Christmas

Day Seven

ᎾN ᎢᎻᎬ ᏚᎬᏙᎬNᎢᎻ ᎠᎪY ᎾF ᏟᎻᎡᏆᏚᎢᎷᎪᏚ ᎠᏆᎷᏢᏞᎬᏚ ᎠᏆᎠ ᎪᏢᏢᎬᎪᎡ, ᎪNᎠ ᎠᎡᎪᏩᏩᎬᎠ ᏚᏢᎾᎢ ᎢᎾ ᏟᎪᎡᎾᏞᎬᎡᏚ ᎢᎾ ᎻᎬᎪᎡ

(For those of you who haven't read my story, Dimples is basically a seven or eight year old boy who kinda pesters Spot, but Spot takes him under his wing)
***

If there was one thing that Spot hated, it was the cold. He absolutely despised selling papers in the winter. He'd stand on his corner for hours hawking headlines in the frosty air.

The wind would blow and freeze you down to your bones and the snow would melt and seep into your shoes, leaving you with damp socks and freezing toes.

In fact, Spot would argue that no one other than the rich liked winter. Hours spent walking outside or standing in drafty factories...He even considered, just for a second, heading out to Santa Fe like Jack had talked about. There's no way it froze like this out there.

Even so, Spot resigned himself to another winter in the bitter cold. He couldn't change the weather, nor could he afford a ticket out west. Besides, he liked Brooklyn. That was his home.

And so Spot moved through the days, angry and cold, just trying to hold on until spring.

One particularly nasty December day Spot returned to the lodge in an especially foul mood. His fingers were numb and he'd barely sold half of his papers.

His boys knew better than to talk to him. No one tried to stop him as he stormed upstairs into his room. He shut the door behind him and dropped onto the bed. Spot rubbed his hands together and started sliding his boots off.

A fresh pair of dry socks later and he was feeling a little bit better, though he didn't plan on moving from his bed until the next morning.

Spot closed his eyes and leaned back against the head of his bed. A quick nap wouldn't hurt anyone...

The creaking of a door had him bolting upright in his bed. "Who's there?" He asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Guess!" Someone chirped.

Spot groaned. "I really ain't in the mood for games, Dimples."

"You got it right!" The boy exclaimed, pushing the door open.

Spot wanted nothing more than to tell the kid to go away, but he had a soft spot for Dimples. "What do you want, bud?"

"I was thinkin' maybe you could take me to see some carolers," Dimples grinned.

"What?" Spot sputtered.

"I wanna go hear 'em sing! Some of the boys was talkin' about them and I've never been. I thought maybe you would take me."

"I don't think so," Spot laughed. There was no way that he was going back out there. Not a chance.

"Please!" Dimples pleaded.

Spot shook his head. "It's cold and dark and snowy. I ain't going anywhere."

Dimples pouted and Spot, being the fearless leader that he was, did exactly what was expected when facing a child like that.

He scowled as he pulled his boots on and slipped back into his coat. "Hurry up. I don't wanna be out all night."

Dimples grinned victoriously and followed closely behind Spot. "I do!"

"Of course you do," Spot grumbled.

It didn't take the boys long to stumble across a group of carolers. Spot wasn't excited to stand around and listen to the cheerful tunes while he froze, but Dimples seemed quite taken by the performance.

His eyes lit up as soon as he heard them and his fingers gripped Spot's arm tightly as he dragged the older boy closer. Dimples listened to them sing 'Joy to the World' with wide eyes. He seemed in awe of the group.

Spot rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Aren't they amazing?" Dimples breathed.

"Yeah, sure kid."

"They sound like magic!"

"Whatever you say," Spot scoffed.

The night dragged on and the songs kept coming. After the eighth or ninth song, Dimples leaned against Spot, his eyes fluttering closed.

"O Christmas Tree, o Christmas tree..." Dimples mumbled along with the carolers.

"Dimples," Spot whispered.

"Hmm?" The boy hummed, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Youse gettin' tired. We should go back."

"No!" The boy protested weakly.

"You're almost sleeping on your feet!" Spot chuckled. "We're going back."

Dimples yawned and gave in. Spot tried the lead him down the street, but the boy stumbled with every step. Another glance at Dimples showed Spot that the boy was barely awake. He couldn't even stand on his own.

Spot picked Dimples up and cradled him as he headed towards the lodge. Dimples shifted in Spot's arms and rested his head on Spot's shoulder.

Spot tried to be as quiet as possible as he entered the lodge. He tried to walk up the stairs slowly, wincing every time a step creaked.

Most of the boys were already asleep so he didn't need to worry about anyone mentioning this later on. The boys who were still up knew to look away and keep their mouths shut.

Spot gently set Dimples down on his bed. Dimples forehead creased and his hand gripped at the fabric of Spot's coat. His nose, pink from the cold, scrunched up.

Spot smiled fondly at the boy who'd grown to be a brother and loosened his fingers from the material. Spot stood there for a minute watching the boy's face relax. Spot smoothed Dimples's hair and pulled the covers over him, then moved to leave.

"G'night Dimples."

"Spot?"

Spot turned around at the whisper. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for takin' me," Dimples said, rubbing his eyes. "I ain't been since my mama took me."

"It ain't any trouble," Spot said softly.

Dimples smiled and turned over, burying his face into his pillow.

Spot left the room and continued down the short hallway to his own room. Once again he slid his coat and boots off. He quickly changed and climbed into bed.

Spot, though cold and tired, couldn't bring himself to be upset about the way his evening had turned out. He really hadn't wanted to go, he hated Christmas carols, but the child had been insistent.

The excitement and joy on his face had been more than worth the discomfort, though Spot would never admit it.

Spot had spent his evening with his little brother and he had thoroughly enjoyed it.