Title: Literacy

Author: IndigoNight

Summary: Darren teaches Mr. Crepsley how to read.

Feedback: Yes please, yay reviews!

Pairing: None.

Disclaimer: I do not own Cirque Du Freak or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Spoilers: Not really…

Warnings: Mild humor.

Author's Note: Written in school this morning in honor of literacy week. I've been toying with the idea since I first read book 8, I just now today got around to actual writing it though. Just random and fun. Anyways, Read, Review, and most importantly,

Enjoy!

"Try it again," I said patiently.

"No." And yes, there was a definite edge of sulk in his voice.

"Come on, you're really getting better," I wheedled.

"Do not patronize me, Darren," he growled warningly.

I had to work hard not to chuckle, that would *not* calm him down. "I'm not patronizing, I'm serious," I protested instead, "Look, see, this one looks a little bit less like a squiggly than the others" It was true, although admittedly neither of them looked much like the 'A' they were meant to be.

All I got for my efforts was another growl.

"Alright, alright," I put up my hands defensively, "Let's try the reading again."

"Absolutely not," he snapped, "I have had enough of this ridiculous embarrassment."

"Hey, you were the only who said you wanted to learn!"

"Only because I am sick you always having your nose buried in those infernal journals of yours writing only the vampire gods know what about me!" he exploded. I was a little surprised, Larten Crepsley rarely exploded, so I knew he must be really frustrated.

It took me a few moments to figure out how to react to that. "I didn't know they bothered you so much," I finally said lamely.

He shifted very slightly, the beginnings of a flush creeping down his scalp. "It is simply irritating," he huffed, trying to recover some dignity.

I would have laughed had I not thought he'd bite my head off for it. Instead I took a deep, calming breath. "Okay." I got out my first journal, the one that had the beginning of it all in it. He watched me as I did, looking slightly confused.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

I flipped open my journal to the first page. The poor quality of my hand writing was a slight road block, but we'd get around it. I moved a little closer to him so that we both could easily see the worn notebook.

"It started in a toilet," I read aloud. His eyes moved regularly from the page to my face, studying both at once.

"Now you try," I pointed out the words and he squinted at them, mouth slowly moving to sound out the words. I knew it had to feel embarrassing; it'd been embarrassing when I'd had difficulty stumbling over words in first grade, but he was over two hundred years old. I tried to be patient, though, and encouraging. I had absolutely no experience teaching, but I remembered how I'd learned, and watching Mon and Dad help Annie.

It was slow going, but eventually it got easier and we both relaxed. Soon enough he was reading almost entirely on his own. He continued to primarily read my journals, in spite of my insistence that there really is much better literature out there. I figured eventually he'd get bored and move on to something else, but he was determined to read them all the way through.

He just kept at it, getting better and better until he started correcting my spelling and grammar. It was then that I figured out that just maybe I was going to regret teaching him to read.