Author's Notes - So, recentley in English Literature at school, we were almost forced to read Great Expectations. Needless to say (being tired and angry) I banged my head on the table. Then, after Pip moves in with Herbert, I realised quite how suggestively slashy it is. Or maybe it's just my dirty mind. Either way, I continued reading, and I'm nearing the end now. I felt the urge to write this, and get it out of my system. More Great Expectations slash, please! (I should really get out more ...)

Oh, by the way, this is set while Pip's living with Herbert and Clara, Chapter 58 I believe. Please do tell me if I've messed up, I haven't actually finished the whole shabbam yet. The overdone Christmas setting is due to Dickens thing about Christmas, it just came to me one day in English.

Disclaimer - Haha, imagine if I owned Dicken's work. Pip and Herbert would be all over each other. Basically, I don't own it. If you fancy giving me an early birthday present ...

It was often at Christmas time that I found myself feeling rather peculier. It had been over five long, lonesome years since I had seen sight of either dear Joe or Biddy, and my heart ached at the thought of them. Though in the grand scheme of things, I was living quite well for myself, having paid off many of my previous debts. I couldn't help but feel a Christmas alone would have been more joyous than spending it with Herbert and dear Clara; their happy partnership could only make me pine for Estella more than before. I often thought of beautiful Estella; of Drummle as well. My physical and mental state was despairing at a complete lack of intimacy in my life, and thinking of marriage could only make me worse.

From a room near the roof of their house was I, laid out on crisp linen, still in my walking boots. On any other day I would have removed these abombinations before even thinking of ascending the staircase to this attic room, but today was different. Christmas time was always different, and this year was sadly going to bring naught but sorrow. From my position on my back, my eyes following a crack that ran across the whole ceiling, I could smell cookery going on downstairs. My room being only two floors above the kitchen this beautiful scent was much expected, almost comforting. Clara must have been downstairs toiling over a magnificent Christmas feast for just the three of us. She worked hard, dear Clara, and her food was aways delicious and wholesome, though I could not help but feel a little troubled over her and Herbert. That is to say, I had been living with the dear fellow ever since my years as a youth, and had never really quite adjusted to Clara.

I was lost in thought, a most awful thing for me to be doing on this day of Christ, when a knock sounded upon my door. I hastened to remove myself from my bed, brushing my clothes down ever so fast. The door creaked, opened, and none other than my dear fellow Herbert stumbled into my bedroom, his clothes dusty and hair quite askew.

"Herbert, old chap, what brings you up here?" I enqquired, sounding unusually jolly, "Time for dinner already?"

He shook his head, and I saw one hand hasten to close my door in a flurry. Herbert after this came and placed himself on my bed, his expression quite unreadble, "Pray you sit down, dear Handel, your face bears a lack of sleep." He beckoned me to sit down on my own bed, and I did so, if a little reluctantly.

"Whatever's the matter?" Said I, quite frightfully concerned.

To this, he replied quite sincerely, "Only you, Handel. Have you not been up here since dawn? Dear Clara is in quite a fret about you." His wide eye's matched the same concern as mine, and I quickly moved them away.

"O', only deep in my own thoughts. Christmas time is much a time for thinking, tell Clara naught to fret, I am perfectley fine." Replied I, and to my good relief, Herbert only smiled.

"We thought you might have been asleep, or possibly worse. I do not like to think of the consequence's of your thinking too much, you do look ever so ill when you do so."

I fell silent at this point, not entirely sure of what the dear fellow was suggesting. He frowned, a few rigid lines appearing on his precious brow. As I looked back over to him, my wandering eyes met his, and this time he took the liberty to turn away ever so suddenly, a flinch almost.

"Herbert, my dear fellow." Said I, now quite as concerned as him, "Whatever is the matter with you, nevermind myself?"

"Naught much, dear Handel." Said he, a crease of amusement now appearing around his flush pink lips, "I am just tired, a busy day out has made me almost delirious!"

I smiled back, his charm engrossing me again. A faint sensation of falling sank onto my stomach, a feeling that had never entirely left me. It was most perculier, nothing like the feelings I often experienced with beautiful Estella. This sensation had caught me most unaware, and I myself became aware of a rather vacant expression born upon my own face. It was at this point that I felt a comforting hand on my thigh, sending a rather chill sensation up my own spine. I daren't look down on it's owner, and remained mute and stock still, though absolutley aware of the hand still resting there.

I loosened a little, and turned to Herbert, though I daren't look into those eyes still.

He was the first to speak, I remember so well, "My dear Handel, you are in quite a fret. Pray tell me whatever is the matter, it is most important." His voice sounded ever so concerned, and so I turned my stiff neck to look at him. He bore a weak smile upon his youthful face, and I could not help myself. I smiled back, though quite as weak as him.

Registering his concern as had done only minutes beforehand, I gave him but the same reply as before, "O', just thought. I often have drifted off, and for that I must admit I am frightfully sorry, my dear Herbert."

He greeted my reply with a warmer smile, and his other hand snuck up upon my own pair, withoutmy initial noticing. "Oh, my poor dear Handel, you musn't fret over dear Estella. Christmas day is a time for celebration, pray you celebrate with me?" I caught, at that tense moment in time, what appeared to me to be a smirk of sorts upon his lips, "Handel, would object so much to a little Christmas cheer, perhaps?"

I caught that smirk again, playing ever so slightly sinisterly upon that beautiful face. At that time, I could not have ever fully appreciated what was about to happen, I was still so caught up with my own rapid thoughts. Unaware, I felt a smooth velvet cuff against my cheek, and looked up only to see dear Herbert's hands upon my own cheeks.

"Oh my, Herbert, whatever are you doing?" Asked I, hopeful for an answer I had been waiting for years to here.

"Handel, pray you tell me if you object in anyway. It is only when I see the longing in your eyes, I think of Estella, and the trouble she has wrecked upon your poor mind. I have only wished to sort this for many years, though I felt too cowardly to do so." Said he, bringing his flushed face a little nearer to my own, himself in rather a fluster.

I had focused upon his fragile, pale eyelashes, and replied, "Object? But my dear Herbert, what would I object to exactly?"

It was only when he tipped his head a little closer, and my lips felt a cold pair upon them that I fully understood. However awkward I had felt at that time, I could not pull away. I scent of the city, mingling with the fresh outdoors, and icy lips moved onto mine. Herbert's eyes had closed, and I followed suite, as I assumed the custom must be. A damp, warm sensation hit me, and I moved myself ever so closer to him. His hands were at this point carressing my hair ever so much, and I despaired almost at the thought of what I must have looked like.

He pulled away from myself finally, flushed and fairly amused. I looked inquisitively at him, at his still beating eyelashes, and felt the beating of mine own heart ever so much.

"My dear Handel, you are ever so awkward." Said he, patting down my hair with a gentle hand, "Have you never kissed a woman before?"

I found myself shaking my head rather shamefully; I had kissed Estella, but an awkward peck on her pale cheek never came to much in the grand scheme of things. At this Herbert loosened up, and I looked up at his face, myself now fairly amused.

"Well, my dear fellow, a most merry Christmas." Said he, rather overly cheerfull, "Pray you join us for dinner. The goose must be almost ready by now, what with poor Clara fretting about that kitchen like a hen." With this, he leaned in for another kiss. That one, thankfully, was almost expected. Christmas in the Pocket household was always much more cheerfull for the both of us in the years that followed, needless to say, poor dear Clara had never found out.