So I actually first got the idea for this back in October, but it was only yesterday I got around to actually writing it. Procrastination much? XD

Anyway, this story contains some spoilers for the book The adventures of Tom Sawyer, so be aware of that going in. I think it should be fine though to read this fic without having read the book (if you don't mind the out-of-context spoilers that is).

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! :)

Autumn, 1876

"Huck Finn and

Tom Sawyer swears

they will keep mum

about This and They

wish They may Drop

down dead in Their

Tracks if They ever

Tell and Rot"

Will arched a single eyebrow, adjusting the book resting in his hands. Even though no where near the brilliance of his own work, he had to admit Tom Sawyer was pretty good at writing poems on the spot. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised though - it had been pretty much established throughout the book that Tom Sawyer was good at everything.

Except school.

And church.

And talking to girls.

… Okay, thinking about it, the boy had plenty of flaws.

Will was currently stretched out on the library table, his feet dangling just over its edge. He had been sitting in the seat by the window when he first started reading, but training pains from yesterday (curse Jem's low-aimed roundhouse kicks) had made it impossible to find a comfortable sitting position.

But lying down on his stomach didn't seem to aggravate any sore muscles, and so that was what he'd settled for, with no plans on moving until he had finished the book. With nothing on the schedule today anyway - a rare occasion indeed - he figured he'd earned some time to relax.

It seemed, however, that his plans would be dashed when steps were heard approaching the library. Will frowned as the handle twisted downwards, a snide remark on the tip of his tongue… though it died immediately when he saw who it was.

"Jem," he said. "I thought you were Charlotte or Jessamine."

A small smile played across his parabatai's ips. "Sorry to disappoint."

Will wasn't disappointed - the opposite, in fact - but he didn't say so. Instead he simply focused back on his novel, pretending to read as Jem sat down in one of the chairs closest to him. It was first then Will noticed the violin in his hands.

"Is it comfortable on the table?" Jem asked, humour infiltrating his calm voice.

Will shrugged as well as he could with his elbows still resting on the polished wood surface. "Better than sitting up and feeling like someone is stabbing you repeatedly in the legs. That's your fault, by the way."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm sore too."

"It doesn't."

Jem only shrugged, running his slender fingers along the strings of the violin resting in his lap. It was a tender gesture, as if the instrument were a living thing. A living thing very near to his heart.

Will swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat (why did memories have to come to you at the worst times?), forcing his voice to sound casual. "Were you practicing?"

"I was planning to. But I don't know what to play."

"Well, you'll have to look elsewhere for inspiration, because I can't help you." He gestured towards the book. "Tom Sawyer and his friend just witnessed a murder, and I can't abandon them there, can I?"

The corners of Jem's eyes crinkled in amusement. "I suppose not."

A short silence settled between the boys and thinking the conversation was over, Will focused back on his novel. Where had he left off? Right, the poem.

He didn't get more than a few sentences though before Jem spoke.

"Read out loud for me, would you?"

Will glanced over at him sceptically, thinking it surely was a joke. But there was only sincerity in those silver-tinted eyes.

"Fine." Hesitating briefly, Will cleared his throat dramatically and began. "'They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away.

"'A figure crept stealthily-'"

He cut himself off abruptly to send Jem a questioning look. Because as he'd been reading, the other boy had taken up his violin and begun to play - a slow tune in some minor key. Something about it felt suspenseful and slightly eerie all at once.

Seeing his confusion, the corner of Jem's mouth tugged up and, still playing, gave him a small nod. Keep going.

Okay then. Will continued with the next line, lowering his voice to create some suspense of his own. "'A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now... but they did not notice it.'"

As he continued reading, Jem effortlessly matched his dramatic tone; following his voice like an echo, pausing when he did, adding a few high notes on certain words in a way that sent shivers down Will's spine. A childish thrill of excitement ran through him. This was unlike anything he'd ever done. It was like a song without singing. A poem with backing instruments. A two-man theatre play.

Will couldn't stop the wide grin that spread across his lips as he eagerly turned to the next page.

:::

One hour (and fifty-eight pages) later…

Charlotte was on her way to her office when she heard loud voices coming from the library. Or rather, she realised as listened closer, one very familiar loud voice. And… a violin?

What trouble was Will up to now?

Hoping fervently that nothing had been broken, she strode over to the solid wood door and pushed it open - gently, in case things were being thrown inside (she wasn't really in the mood for a concussion right now).

The sight that met her was not one she had expected.

First of all, the library was still intact.

Secondly, Will was standing on the table, reading dramatically from a book in his hands, his face lit up with a carefree glee she hardly ever saw.

And thirdly, Jem was perched on a chair next to him. He too seemed unusually at peace, eyes trained on his parabatai as his fingers flew over the violin strings, the music near perfectly complementing the varying intensity of Will's speech.

"'First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's,'" Will was now saying, Jem quieting as the other boy paused for suspense, "'And then!'" The music increased again as Will leapt from the table (so much for the training pains he'd been complaining about, Charlotte thought with a mix of exasperation and amusement) and landed right next to Jem, "'Then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck-'"

As the two continued with their theatrics, Charlotte watched them quietly from where she stood in the doorway. Then, an affectionate smile on her lips, she closed the door and left.