Author:

Author: X_tremeroswellian

Disclaimer: They're Kevin's. Don't sue.

Classification: Pacey/Joey angsty/friendship

Rating: PG-13 for language

Spoilers: Up through the first 6 episodes of first season, specifically for the 6th one, titled, "Baby."

Author's Note: This is a tag to my fic, Common Bonds...Yeah, I don't know if it's weird to write a tag to your own fanfics, but hey, I never said I *wasn't* weird. :)

Feedback: Please!

Distribution: Take it. Just drop me a line and let me know the site address.

Seeking Warmth

Pacey walked along the docks aimlessly, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down. When was it he'd started being so stupid? His dad would say the day he was born. Hell, that's what his whole family would say.

Maybe they were right.

He felt very alone and cold as he walked along, chilled by the night wind.

Tamara had gone, left town.

And left him behind to deal with the rumors and stares and laughing and pain by himself.

He thought about going to Dawson's, but didn't really feel like listening to him talk about Jen Lindley or about how he'd brought this whole mess on himself.

And if he went home, he'd have to listen to his family tell him what a loser he was.

At this point, staying out in the cold night was better. Freezing was preferable to going home.

What he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep and get warm again. Wanted to sleep so long that when he woke up, no one would remember who he was and he could start all over again.

Pacey stopped and looked up, blinking in surprise as he realized he was standing in front of the Potters' home.

He remembered his conversation with Joey earlier.

"I just wanted you to know that...if you want to talk to someone...you know...you don't have to worry about me judging you or anything. You know where to find me," she had said.

She had sounded sincere when she had said it. He didn't really feel like talking, but he didn't want to be alone, either.

Pacey was on the porch and halfway to the front door when he realized the house was dark and silent. He glanced down at his watch. Of course the house was dark and silent. It was almost midnight.

He sighed and turned away, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast once again. He'd only made it halfway across the yard when he heard an uncertain voice behind him.

"Pacey?"

He stopped and turned around to see Joey headed towards the house, keys in her hand, hesitating as she peered at him in the semi-darkness under the moon.

"Hey," he said quietly, shivering. He wondered if she was coming back from Dawson's.

"Hey," she said back. "Are you okay?"

Pacey realized there were tears in his eyes, and if he spoke, he'd probably dissolve right there in front of her. He shook his head slowly.

Joey took a step towards him, then held her hand out silently.

He stared at her hand for a long moment, then stepped forward and slid his own hand into hers, and she pulled him forward gently. He allowed her to lead him up the porch steps and waited for her to unlock the door. As she opened it and walked into the house, she turned and looked at him. "Come inside," she said softly, in a tone of voice he'd rarely heard from her.

Pacey hesitated for a brief moment. Then he followed her.

He could hardly remember the last time he'd been in the Potters' house. It was sometime before her dad had been arrested for drug trafficing. He and Dawson used to play here all the time when they were younger.

Then things got bad. Joey's mom had been diagnosed with cancer, which had been an ongoing battle until she died when Joey was 13. Then everyone found out that her dad had been cheating on her mom while her mom was sick, and shortly after that he'd been thrown in jail for drugs.

Pacey's dad had been the one to arrest him.

Pacey had never felt so awful in his life. Because of his father, the rest of her family had been torn apart.

Right after that, his dad had forbid him from going to the Potter's. "I don't want you going over there. That whole family's nothing but trash. No son of mine's going to hang out with pill-popping slut bags like the Potters," John Witter had said.

Pacey and his father had never gotten along, but his resentment towards his father grew by leaps and bounds that day.

He silently followed Joey through the house, to the kitchen, smiling as he suddenly remembered sitting around the kitchen table with Dawson and Joey on a Saturday morning as Joey's mom fixed them pancakes and bacon.

"What?" Joey asked, noticing his smile.

"I was just remembering how great your mom's pancakes always tasted."

Joey smiled, though her eyes reflected a deep sadness. "Unfortunately, I didn't inherit her affinity for cooking." She motioned for him to sit down at the table, and he did so.

Pacey watched as she moved around the kitchen gracefully, gathering various things from the cabinets.

"I hope we don't wake up Bessie and Bodie," he commented.

"Actually, they're not here. They're at the hospital. Bessie had the baby today." She gave him a quick rundown of the day's events after their conversation on the docks.

Pacey shook his head in amazement. "So Mrs. Ryan delivered the baby?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? I mean, considering she hates me and my family as much as anyone else in this town."

"Well, Jo, I'll let you in on a little secret. The people in this town are a bunch of racist, hypocritical, ignorant assholes," he said bitterly. And my father happens to be one of them, he thought.

"Reason 1 million 1 thousand 9 hundred and 99 to want to get out of here," she muttered. She set a cup of hot chocolate down in front of him. She frowned as she stared at him for a moment. Then she disappeared into the other room, and returned carrying a gray blanket.

She draped it around his shoulders and he looked up at her in surprise.

"You're shivering," she said briefly, as she sat down across from him, sipping her own mug of hot chocolate.

He picked up the cup and held it in his hands, allowing it to warm them as his eyes drifted halfway shut.

Joey watched him, an eyebrow raised. "I didn't poison it or anything."

Pacey gave her a wry smile. "No arsenic? Not even for an old friend?"

"Nope. Not really in the mood for a murder trial. Don't want to end up in jail like--" She cut herself off and stared down at the tabletop.

He wanted to say something--anything to make her feel better, but there were no words that would help. He knew that, and so did she. So they sat in silence, sipping their cocoa, lost in their own thoughts.

After awhile, she looked up at him. "Why don't we move to the living room? It'll be more comfortable and we can watch tv."

Pacey knew he should go home, but everything inside of him ached to stay. And looking into her eyes, he realized she didn't want to be here alone anymore than he wanted to go.

"Sure," he agreed.

He followed her into the living room that doubled as her bedroom and sat down at the far end of her sofa-bed, the blanket still wrapped around him.

Joey sat down at the other end of the sofa-bed, and flipped the tv on. She changed the channels half-heartedly, and then finally left it on some old late night talk show. Neither one of them was really interested in watching it. They were both drained--physically, mentally, and emotionally--to the point of sheer exhaustion.

Pacey noticed that now she was shivering, and he untangled himself from the blanket and covered her with it as well. It was big enough to cover them both even while they were at opposite ends of the sofa-bed. Their legs brushed up against each other slightly.

He snuggled down against his pillow and felt himself totally relax. Within moments, he could hear the reassuring sound of Joey's light breathing as she slept.

Pacey closed his own eyes and started to drift to sleep as well.

His last thought was that he was finally warm.

The End