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thefactsofthematter · 3 years

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we’ve all lost our way before

a bittersweet, jack-and-medda-centred prequel to this fic i wrote last year. no one requested this, i just felt like pouring out some emotions, so if you’d like to Feel Things with me, be my guest! this can be read as a standalone fic as well, if you haven’t read the original.

read this on ao3 if you want!

javid (sort of); 2.3k; modern au; warning for drug abuse, addiction, and overdose.

Jack is nineteen when he overdoses for the first time.

The saddest part is that he sees it as a strange sort of victory. He's been playing with fire for four or five years now, but only just OD'd. No one— at least not anyone important to him— will know that he was hooked on drugs as a literal child... they'll think of this as a recent problem, that art school was the catalyst in turning him into a junkie. He thinks it might be less shameful this way.

Medda is there when he wakes up in the hospital. He knows exactly what's going on as soon as he comes to consciousness— the familiar ache in his joints tells him that a withdrawal is starting to hit, and the rhythmic beeping, in sync with his heartbeat, is enough to fill in the story of just what happened. He overdid it.

"Mama..." he groans, hardly able to open his eyes. He reaches weakly towards where he can see her sitting in a chair and typing on her phone, with a nervous scrunch to her eyebrows.

She looks up, and then she's there in an instant, right beside him to take his hand.

"Oh Jack..." she whispers, wrapping both her hands around one of his and squeezing. Her voice is wet, like she's been crying. "What've you done to yourself, baby?"

There's a lot he wants to say— that he's ruined his own life, and he's sorry, and he can't believe he's done this to her, and he probably should've just died from the overdose so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore, and he's so so so sorry for everything. None of those words leave his mouth, though.

"I did something bad, didn't I?" he mumbles, feeling his fingers twitch between her hands, but not quite in control of the movement. The doctors must be medicating him somehow, because this isn't a normal comedown. Why is he so tired?

"You sure did," she sighs. She pauses and swallows, as if she's trying to figure out what to say. She finally shakes her head and continues. "You overdosed on heroin, Jack— I found you on the bathroom floor, and your lips and fingers were blue. I thought you were dead."

Jack feels a horrible, horrible little ball of shame start to twist in his gut. It's not regret, necessarily, but he feels bad that she had to see that. He feels bad that he scared her, and that he's making her deal with all this now. He's a horrible son.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his words shake and his fingers twitch again, the nervous jitter that comes with the drugs leaving his system. "I didn't mean to."

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. He can tell she's trying to be empathetic, and that she's angry with him but she doesn't want to show him that.

"I know you didn't," she says. "I know, darling." She rubs her thumb in little circles on the back of his hand. "But did you even think for a second, when you decided to shoot up in there, that one of the boys could've found you?"

This is a point that she likes to drive home whenever he's in trouble. Jack is the oldest of four, and he needs to be responsible because his brothers look up to him. He was a teenager when she adopted him, and he knew that by joining the family, he was stepping up to be a role model for Crutchie, Race, and Albert. He'd been so honoured, and he really thought he could do it, at the time.

"No," he finally croaks, because of course he didn't consider it— he wasn't planning on overdosing. "I'm sorry."

The youngest, Albert, is only twelve— and even at that, he's awfully naive for his age. He probably doesn't even know what heroin is or what it can do, and now Medda's going to have to tell him that his brother almost died from it. Of course the boys are going to ask questions, and Jack knows Medda will answer them honestly. She's not a fan of keeping secrets.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks, after a moment. She sounds so hurt, like the thought of Jack's addiction physically pains her. It makes him want to vomit. "The doctor said some of the needle marks on your arms look like they've been there for years. When did it start?"

Jack can't bring himself to answer. It's too embarrassing.

He was such a stupid, gullible fourteen year-old that he let the older boys in his last foster home before Medda's place do this to him— it was a group home where they were horribly abused in every way you can possibly think of, and everyone was searching for a way to cope. They told him drugs would make everything better, and they held his arm still while they injected him with the tiniest amount of heroin, and suddenly he wasn't scared or in pain anymore. He couldn't feel anything. It was the best he's ever felt, and he knew right then that this was going to become a problem. His parents had been addicts, he knew it ran in his blood, but he let himself fall into the trap anyways. It's horrible.

"I want to go to sleep now," is all he says, purposefully avoiding the question. His eyes feel droopy and heavy, and the ache of the withdrawal is growing stronger, and he knows that if he doesn't sleep now it'll only get worse.

"Please, Jack," Medda whispers, not giving it up. She's squeezing his hand almost desperately. "How long?"

He lets his eyes fall shut and weakly attempts to wrench his hand away from hers.

"I'm tired, Mama."

A heavy sigh.

"Okay."

She lets go of his hand and moves instead to pet his hair, even as he turns his face away from her and tries to roll onto his side in a pitiful attempt to show that he wants to be left alone. She hums softly as she does so, and it makes Jack's chest feel tight like he's going to cry. He finally has a mother who loves him, after all these years of wishing for one, and all he can do is disappoint her.

Medda is on the phone the next time he's awake.

"Did you know he was abusing drugs, David?" she asks, and her tone is almost accusatory, like she thinks Davey had something to do with this. "He overdosed on heroin last night."

Davey must panic on the other end of the call, because her tone suddenly goes much softer.

"No, no, he's okay. He's in the hospital, but he'll be alright." She pauses and sighs. "The doctor said it looks like he's been using for a couple years, at least. You didn't know?"

Jack decides not to open his eyes just yet— he's nauseous and his stomach aches. He's sure that if he were to force himself to vomit it might alleviate it somewhat, but he wants to hear what Medda and Davey might talk about, so he just doesn't move.

"Okay," Medda sighs. "I understand. I had no idea either— it's scary how well he hid it. He overdosed in the bathroom at home; he must've been using drugs in the house this whole time, and I never caught on."

Jack's awfully ashamed of that bit. He didn't used to do it at home— he only did it on occasion when he was younger, and he'd save it for when he was with friends, or if he had a really bad day. It's just the past few months that have gotten so bad... he can't go a day without it anymore. He gets dope sick, craves his next dose until he can finally shoot up, and it doesn't even really get him high. He needs heroin to feel normal these days. He's been at home, around his little brothers, with that god-awful drug coursing through his body. He hates himself so, so deeply for that.

He needs help. He knows he needs help. But he somehow doesn't want it— he knows it won't work. He'll end up checking himself out of rehab, or wherever Medda tries to send him, and he'll go right back to the drugs. Being sober is hard, and being high is easy. He likes that easy, relaxed feeling, and he knows that any amount of time he spends sober will just make the next high feel even better.

"I'm going to try to get him straight from the hospital into rehab," Medda says on the phone, which makes Jack feel horrible that he's already planning on refusing that idea. "You've got school, sweetheart, this isn't your responsibility. Come by for a visit if you'd like, but don't get to thinking you have to look after him or anything... oh, I know you love him. I know, dear. But you have to put yourself first, alright?"

Jack doesn't like listening to this anymore. Medda's going to convince Davey to break up with him, isn't she? She doesn't think Jack deserves to have a boyfriend as lovely as Davey, since he's such a disappointment— she's right, but it makes his chest ache anyways.

"Mama," he groans, finally letting her know he's awake. He feels like a helpless little kid as he reaches out for her yet again. "I feel sick. I'm gonna puke."

The light hurts his eyes as he opens them, and he barely registers Medda pressing a little paper bowl into his hands for him to vomit into. He leans forward and gags into it, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sunlight while she rubs a hand gently up and down his back.

"I'll let you go, Davey," she sighs into the phone. "Text me when you get here, alright?"

Jack tries to ask if that means Davey is coming to see him, but it comes out a little garbled when he realizes he's not done throwing up. He interrupts himself to shove his face back in the little bowl and heave yet again. It takes until he's finished puking to realize that he began to cry somewhere in the middle of it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," he finally says, once he's sure it's over. He leans his head back against the pillows and finally says the words he's been dreading. "I... If you don't want me anymore, I understand. It's okay."

This must catch Medda off-guard, because it takes her a second to process it. She's perfectly calm as she takes the little bowl from him and sets it somewhere for a nurse to take away, but then she turns back around to him with a confused frown.

"Hang on, what?" she asks. "Jack, baby, what are you talking about? Where did you get that idea from?"

Truthfully, the thought hasn't fully left his mind since the day they signed the adoption papers, a little over two years ago. He's always figured that she'd get sick of him at some point— he's even looked into how an adoption can be annulled, so that he's prepared for when the day eventually comes. She'll realize he's not worth all the trouble he causes, she'll see how messed up he is, and she'll get rid of him for good.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, not quite able to look her in the eyes. He wipes pitifully at the tears on his cheeks and forces himself to keep talking. "If you want to, like, cancel out the adoption... that's alright. It's not fair that you have to deal with me when I'm so awful."

She's silent for a second, and Jack is sure that this is it. She'll undo the adoption, kick him out of the family, and he'll be all on his own again. He doesn't want that, of course, but he understands why she would do it.

"John Francis Kelly," she finally says, and she comes over to the bed to cup his cheeks and hold onto his face. "Look at me. Nothing you could ever say or do could make me even consider that. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Nothing could ever, ever make me stop loving you."

This is where Jack finally breaks. She's too good to him— he can't understand what he's done in his fucked-up life to deserve to meet someone like her. He's done nothing to earn her love, but she gives it to him unconditionally anyways, and he simply can't comprehend it. He sobs, leaning forward into her arms; she hugs him tight and just holds him there.

"You're my son, Jack," she whispers, as his head rests in the crook of her neck and she rocks him back and forth. "Okay? It doesn't matter that I've only had you for a few years... that doesn't make it any less real. No matter how many mistakes you make— no matter what you do or where you are, I'll always be your mother. You're not getting rid of me." She gently combs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "You got yourself into a tough spot, but we'll get you out, baby. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm sorry," Jack sobs, as if he hasn't said it enough today. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," Medda replies. "I know, baby. You made some mistakes, but it's not the end of the world. We're gonna fix it together, alright?"

Jack can do nothing more than cry at this point, so Medda just rubs his back and pets his hair. She shushes him softly, as if she's soothing an infant, and he simply clings onto her for dear life. He doesn't deserve how wonderful she is.

#my writing #jack kelly #medda larkin #davey jacobs #javid #newsies fic #if you read it on ao3 the end notes are about what happens between this and the og fic #please rb!! it helps people see it!

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whizzcrwins · 5 years

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what people don’t know about racetrack higgins

also known as a bunch of my race hcs / me projecting because i love him and y’all need to stop doing him so dirty

ok so!!!!!!!

homeboy is smart

like. SMART smart.

he plays dumb because it’s easier to just be the Stupid One but when his guard is down catch him spilling truth about astrophysics or politics

when he’s really drunk he gets in these intense political debates with davey or katherine

also he speaks a ton of different languages

like so many?? and no one even knows where he learned them??

english italian spanish french german asl it makes no sense

he teaches italian insults to the youngest

davey, also multilingual, is both impressed and horrified

by the way race does Not take criticism well like. ever. at all

like. the tiniest opinion on how he’s doing things any less than great will make him go crazy

just like jack, he’ll come up with some fast snarky reply

but catch him muttering self-deprecating comments and thinking whatever it is that he did wrong over and over

the boys are concerned at first

but then he just laughs it off and says “it’s fine”

it is Not fine. he is Embarrassed

because he’s one of the most popular manhattan newsies, mind you, and he has a reputation (tm) to take care of

while we’re at it race has this crazy ability to remember even the tiniest details

it’s painfully difficult to lie to him because he just Knows

“jack, why are you wearing davey’s shirt?” “this isn’t davey’s” “yes it is, it’s the one he wore two months ago after the snowstorm when les was sick and-“ “okay fine just shut up”

when he’s around people he trusts, he’s a Hugger (and a really fucking good one)

seriously, he gives the absolute best hugs in the world

which is ruined by his nonstop blabbering, of course

when albert came out to him race just smiled really big and tackled him in a hug and it would’ve been a really cute moment if race didn’t start making jokes about his Unfailing Gaydar

kinda common hc, but race can cook

he stress cooks, actually, much to the delight of the newsies

you’ll be having the most normal day and walk in on race cooking way-too-many chocolate cookies and swearing under his breath

race is weirdly protective with his friends and he definitely hates change

when jack first came to him for advice (bad decision, but hey, crutchie was unavailable) about his crush on davey, race actually advised against it

“feelings are bad. do we even know this kid?”

because it’s always been him and jack and crutchie and albert and elmer and the same old same old, so when this tall kid who is fairly well-dressed and has parents (good parents, not crappy ones like al’s, because those suck) comes waltzing into their lives, he doesn’t buy it

“there‘s something wrong with this kid, al, i can feel it!”

jack ignores him as usual

race tries to intimidate davey into backing off but fails

but eventually jack just starts smiling a lot more often and maybe they’re a good couple and maybe davey’s not a super-villain trying to infiltrate the newsies

(he won’t admit it but he’s really rooting for jack and davey now, and will be deeply offended if he’s not the best man at their wedding)

we know all the newsies are dramatic gays in their own way, but race is definitely That Loud And Chaotic Homosexual

he needs attention. give it to him

like, he’ll literally drop his entire dead weight on albert to get him to look up from his work

as a consequence, many things have been thrown at race — he’s good at dodging, so it’s fine

all in all, race has a lot more to say than he usually does

he’s always joking around and pranking people but sometimes, and only around some very specific people, race has quiet days where he just sits and thinks

it’s scary

but they all respect it, some because they know how hard it can be to keep up with a mind as loud and busy as his, and some because they just don’t want to mess with the sudden peace and quiet

finally and this is very popular i know but LISTEN to me. race has adhd

thank you for your time

#racetrack higgins #aka my child #newsies headcanons #newsies the musical #newsies on broadway #albert dasilva #ralbert #i mean Kinda???#what am i doing #headcanon #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javid #ben tyler cook

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verilyruth · 4 years

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A New Beginning

(Part One of my series, A New Beginning)

AO3

Summary:

“Katherine? What’s the matter?” “Nothing, I just…” She took a moment to look at him and realized that what she was doing was unfair and selfish. So much was going on right now that he didn’t have the time to think about her. Christ, he was suddenly responsible for feeding his family and co-organizing a strike. And even assuming that he was interested in Katherine, this wasn’t the time for her to have this discussion with him. “Nothing.”

Or: Katherine likes Davey, not Jack.

Pairings: Davey/Katherine

Katherine watched as Davey attempted to control the boys at the lodging house. He, Specs, and Race were trying to help the injured kids and calm down the crying ones. Some of the other older boys were also trying to help but they all looked exhausted and most of them seemed to not even have the energy to rise from their bunks. Katherine wasn’t sure she had ever seen somebody look as overwhelmed as Davey currently did.

She approached him when he was talking to Race, figuring it was better than waiting until he was helping a kid again.

“I don't know, Race,” he said. “I’m…I’m going to try but…” Davey inhaled sharply and Race put a hand on his bicep.

“It’s okay, Davey. I know you’re trying.” He walked away.

Katherine saw Davey pinch the bridge of his nose in a way that suggested he was holding back tears.

“Davey?”

He spun around.

“Oh, Ms. Plumber. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were injured.” He looked guilty.

“No! No, I’m fine, Davey, I just wanted to see how I can help.”

“Oh. Um…I’m not sure that you can.”

“Well, what do you have to do? Maybe I can help with that,” she said. Much to her dismay, he looked shocked by her offer.

“I’m…aren’t you supposed to stay out of it?”

“I am. This isn’t the strike right now, I’m just with a bunch of injured kids who happen to be striking.”

Davey chuckled humorously.

“Okay. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“I…I’m trying to get them all food but I’m not sure how. Mr. Kloppman - he runs the lodging house - he’s not making anybody pay for dinner tonight but not this many kids are usually here or buy it so he doesn’t have half as much as we need. I’m…Jack keeps an emergency fund but it’s not enough and I don’t know what to do.” He looked desperate and helpless.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Davey.”

“I have to figure out how to treat the injured kids too. Some of them should really see doctors but they can’t. And…and…” he trailed off and looked directly in her eyes. “Why am I in charge? I’ve been a newsie for less than a week! Race is Jack’s second and…I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I get that he’s helping, but I don’t understand why I’m in control. Why?”

“They see you as a responsible person.”

“But I’m not! I’m just as lost as the rest of them!”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. Here, why don’t you sit down for a minute?” She tried to take his arm and lead him to the old couch but he shook his head.

“No, there’s no time.”

“Then let me help you.”

He bit his lip contemplatively for a moment.

“Could you…do you know anything about first aid?”

“A little bit. I have younger siblings.”

Davey exhaled amusedly.

“That’ll do it. Would you be able to check on some of the younger boys? Most of them are just bruised or have scrapes from falling that need cleaning. If you ask Specs he’ll get you some rags and water.”

She nodded.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Ms. Plumber.”

“Katherine,” she corrected. She got a weak smile in return.

“Katherine.”

“Davey. Davey. Davey!” Katherine ended up shaking his arm to bring him out of his catatonic state. He was sitting on a bunk and the little kid he was helping a minute ago had gotten up, but he remained, staring off into space.

“Hmm? Oh, Katherine. Sorry. What do you need?”

“Nothing except for you to get some rest.”

“What? No, there’s still stuff to be done.”

“Like what? All the kids are treated and most of them are asleep, even some of the older ones.”

“We have to talk about finding Jack, and helping Crutchie, and how we’re going to proceed. I…fuck, we still have to get food for them for when they wake up.”

“Let others handle it.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head. “Race asked me to be in charge so I have to be.”

Katherine sighed.

“At least come sit on the couch. The other boys who are awake are over there.”

“Okay.”

“Where’s your brother? Les, right?”

Davey nodded.

“Yeah. I took him home.”

“What? When?”

“Right from the distribution center.” He stood up with a cringe.

“Davey, are you hurt besides your face? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m fine. I fell, it’s just from that.”

She was skeptical but decided not to push. They walked over to the couch area where the boys were spread out on the couch, the few chairs and the floor. He rested his hands on the arm of the couch and put his weight on them.

“Take my spot, Davey,” Mush said, standing from the couch.

“What? No, that’s okay.”

“You need it more than I do.”

“I’m okay standing.”

Katherine disagreed and it seemed the boys did too. All of them ordered him onto the couch between Race and Albert. He only relented when Mush put his hands on his shoulders and physically led him there. Davey looked at her.

“Katherine, you should sit, I’m fine.”

“I’m not injured.” She sat down on the floor next to Specs.”

“But-”

“What, because I’m a girl I can’t sit on the floor? Seriously, this isn’t the time for chivalry.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Okay. What’s the plan?”

“Let’s wait and regroup in the morning,” Specs said. “It’s not like we could sell tonight even if we wanted to.” The others nodded. Davey didn’t seem happy but he didn’t argue either.

“Fine. What about food?”

The others looked at each other tensely.

“Kloppman said he can feed twenty but there’s fifty-two kids here total.”

“All right. I…I’m sorry, but I have to get food for my siblings and parents first but then I can buy for…” Davey was quiet for a moment, probably doing math. “I can probably afford four others. Five, if we spread it out more.”

“I can do two,” Finch said.

“Is that including yourself?”

“Three, including myself.”

“Good. Seriously, all of you have to make sure you eat first, got it?” Nobody said anything. “Got it?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Yep.”

“Thank you. So that’s twenty-eight.”

Katherine sat and listened to them try to figure it out, feeling like she should say something. She could pay for food for all of them but she didn’t want to compromise her journalistic integrity more than she already had. There was only so much she could ethically do.

Then again, she had to consider if her ethics as a journalist outweighed her ethics as a person. She decided to wait and see. Katherine wouldn’t let anyone go hungry but she would let them pay for what they could. Still, she felt a guilty pit in her stomach.

“No, Romeo, it’s okay,” Davey said as she zoned back in. “That goes for all of you. If you can’t afford it then say so.”

“Sorry, Davey. I don’t even have enough for myself,” Sniper admitted.

“Don’t be sorry. We’ve got enough food for thirty-eight people, and that’s pretty impressive.”

“How do we get enough for fourteen more?” JoJo asked.

“I…I can go to Mr. Jacobi and see if he’ll let me pay him back later or work it off,” Davey said. “If someone who he knows better wants to join me just to ask him that would be great. I’ll handle the payment.”

“Davey, you’re not doing it by yourself,” Mush said. “That ain’t fair.”

“No. I got us into this mess.” The boys all protested. “No, I did! I’ll figure it out. If anyone has any better ideas I’m happy to hear them but I don’t think we do. How much is a meal at Jacobi’s usually?”

“About a nickel.”

Davey looked pained. Katherine couldn’t imagine what it was like to be so poor that you needed to work off seventy cents. God, how could her father be so selfish? These were children! He would never accept it if someone did this to his kids so why were these kids any different?

“All right, that’s fine,” Davey said, even though it clearly wasn’t. “Specs, when you said fifty-two, were you including the kids who don’t stay here too?”

“Yeah. You’re eating here, right?”

“No, I’ll eat at home.”

Except he wouldn’t. Katherine knew that face. It was the same face she wore when she told her mother that she, Darcy, and Bill were going for a late dinner with friends when they were really going to Darcy’s apartment to get wine drunk because she knew it would upset her and it was the same face she wore when she told her boss that his wife was lovely even though she was the rudest person she had ever met. He was lying to protect the feelings of others. When he had said he was feeding his parents and his siblings, that was exactly what he meant - not himself.

“Then it’s fifty-one.”

“Great. I’ll go down to Jacobi’s now and see what he says.”

“I’ll join you,” Katherine said and stood up. “I don’t know him well but I’ve been there for lunch a few times.”

Davey nodded.

“You go to Jacobi’s for lunch?”

“I have once or twice. It’s near my office, so…”

“Yeah.” He kicked a rock as they walked.

“Davey, let me buy the food.”

“What? No. That’s very generous but we can’t put you out like that.”

“Davey-”

“No! It’s a lot of money and I can’t ask someone who isn’t even responsible for us to do that. I’m not going to let you potentially go hungry because of us.”

She stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Katherine didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to make Davey feel embarrassed either. He seemed to notice her expression and he blushed again. “Oh. Sorry. I should’ve…I mean, not that you look poor or anything - not that poor people look a certain way, I just meant that you dress nice, and your hair is always perfect - we’ve only met twice, but both times and…and - yeah, I’m going to stop talking now.”

Katherine giggled and (unfortunately for her) snorted. Davey looked at her but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I really shouldn’t have made any assumptions about you.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Davey.” Katherine laid her free hand on his bicep and held it. Davey’s eyes jumped to it and then quickly returned up. “My family has money and I want to use it for this. Please?”

Davey sighed.

“I can’t let you pay for all of them. You’ll compromise your journalistic integrity.”

Katherine smiled. She hadn’t expected anyone but her to be thinking about that.

“Okay. Just the fourteen you guys can’t.”

“It’s thirteen,” he reminded her.

“No, it really isn’t. You’re a bad liar, Davey, and you need to eat.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve gone without food for a night before, it’s really not that big a deal.”

Her heart twinged and she found herself gripping him a little tighter.

“It’s a big deal to me. We’ll talk to Mr. Jacobi and then you’ll sit and eat.”

“I have to-”

“They can survive on their own for an extra twenty minutes. It’s not like all that food is going to be ready anyway. Okay?”

He sighed and nodded.

“Thank you. It’s really kind. I’ll pay you back when I have the money, I promise.”

“Please don’t.”

Jacobi agreed to make the meals and told Davey to bring some other boys to come back later to help carry them. He even agreed to let them use his dishes if they promised to bring them back the next day. Katherine asked if they could have something to eat and ordered Davey a soup and a half sandwich.

“You really didn’t need to order both. Just one would have been more than enough for me,” he said as they sat down. Katherine rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be silly.” She looked at his hand where it lay on the table. “Davey, your hand.”

“What?”

“It’s shaking.”

“Oh.” He glanced down. “Just tired, I guess. I’m fine.” He avoided further questioning because Mr. Jacobi brought them the food. Katherine watched as he ate. It was different than seeing her friends and family eat. When they had meals, it was relaxed and casual and there was nothing special about it. When Davey ate, he ate slowly and carefully, savoring the food and trying to make the meal last as long as he could. He made satisfied noises as he went (that were definitely not at all adorable, nope, not even a little).

Katherine stopped being entertained by it after a minute though. She realized the reason he was eating as if it was his last meal was probably because he didn’t have any idea when he would eat again. He was on strike now and she didn’t know how he was going to buy food.

“Thank you so much,” he said after a minute or two. “I really, really appreciate it.”

“I…yeah, no problem. Any time.”

“I never have meals this big so it’s…” he trailed off and blushed suddenly, as if realizing what he had said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It hurt to hear that. A soup and a half sandwich shouldn’t be a treat, it should be the kind of thing Davey could have whenever he wanted. He was skinny, certainly, but she hadn’t considered the idea that it could be due to lack of food more than anything else. Come to think of it, most of the newsies were pretty skinny.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “So it’s good?”

“Yeah, it’s great, thanks,” he said with a nod. “Sorry that I’m taking so long. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”

Katherine smiled softly at him.

“Take your time.”

“Katherine! Katherine!” Katherine turned around and saw Davey running through the crowded street, trying his best not to knock over any pedestrians.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry, ma’am!” He swiveled his head around to apologize as he worked his way towards her.

“Katherine! Wait!”

“Davey? What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurt? Did you find Jack?”

“Wh- no, I’m fine. I just…” David sighed and handed her the paper he was holding. She looked down at it and then back up at him, confused.

“Why are you handing me the paper I just gave you?”

“I didn't read it before and now I have.”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

He picked his cap up and ran his hand through his hair.

“You talked about me.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not the leader, Jack is.”

“I talked about him too.”

“Yeah, but then why’d you have to talk about me at all?” He sounded frustrated and Katherine was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were standing on a busy street corner, people passing by them on their way to work.

“Davey, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what the issue is.”

“It wasn’t important to talk about me!”

“Why not? You and Jack started the strike and you’re the vice president of the union.”

He paled.

“I’m the what?”

Katherine couldn’t help but laugh. Davey looked upset and she tried to suppress it but she just couldn’t.

“Did you not know? I asked Jack and he said you’re the vice president.”

“I’m…no, I’m not.”

“Then who is?”

“I don’t know! Race? Crutchie? Not me!”

“Davey,” she said softly, touching his arm, “why are you so upset by this?”

“Because…it’s hard to explain but it’s too late now anyway. Never mind. Sorry to bother you.” He turned away from her but she grabbed his wrist.

“What’s wrong? Seriously, if I did something wrong you have to tell me so that I don’t do it again.”

David shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters! Why don’t we go somewhere a little less crowded and we can talk about this, okay?”

“No, I have to get my brother and go look for Jack.”

“Well, then let’s do it together.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he assured her.

“I’m in this with you guys now, okay? One hundred percent.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Okay.”

“Great. Where should we look?”

“I told the guys I’d look for him at Medda’s - the Bowery, I mean. She owns a theater there.”

“I’ve met her. All right, let’s go get your brother.”

“Yeah. He’s back at Jacobi’s with a couple of the boys.” He started walking but Katherine stood still. He stopped and looked at her. “I thought you were coming.”

“What, you’re not going to offer me your arm, like a gentleman?”

“I-I…I’m not- I- sorry,” he spluttered and blushed. Katherine laughed.

“I’m just teasing.”

“Oh. Okay.” He walked back to her and offered his arm anyway.

“So why are you so upset about the article?”

David sighed and looked down for a second. He almost bumped into an elderly woman and Katherine had to try really hard not to laugh again. He kept his eyes up after that.

“It’s not that…it’s a good story, Katherine, it really is. I mean it, you’re an excellent writer.”

“But?”

“But I would’ve preferred not to be mentioned. It’s my fault, I should’ve told you beforehand.”

“You made a speech that got other kids to join your side. Your words are the reason yesterday worked even a little.”

“Also the reason why Crutchie’s in jail.”

“Hey! That’s not your fault, all right?”

“I-“

“All right?” she repeated sternly. He sighed but nodded.

“All right.”

“My point is, it would have been weird not to include you. You’re a big part of the story, Davey. Why didn’t you want your name in there?”

Katherine watched as Davey chewed on his lip. He seemed to not even realize he was doing it. She wished he wasn’t so nervous but she couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“I want to go back to school.”

“Back? Sorry, I just don’t know you all that well and I’m-”

“No, it’s okay. Yeah, my dad got injured on the job and so my siblings and I needed to go to work. If he finds work again then we’ll go back to school.”

“Siblings? Not just Les?”

“I have a sister too.”

“Yeah? Does she sell too?”

“No, Sarah got a job at a factory. It’s more consistent, you know?”

“Tell me about school,” she said. “What does that have to do with being in the paper?”

“I’m not exactly popular at my school. I’ve got…I go to a school with people who really don’t like me for a bunch of reasons and no one else has ever had to leave because they needed to work. I was already going to be mocked when I go back and this is just going to make it worse.”

“You’re embarrassed to be a newsie?”

“No.”

“Then why-”

“Because the things they mock me for aren’t always embarrassing.”

“Oh.” She didn’t ask any questions because she had a feeling she wouldn’t enjoy the answer, no matter what it ended up being. “Well, I’m sorry. I won’t mention you in the future if it’s going to hurt you.”

“Don’t be sorry; it’s not your fault. And if you want to mention me again, you can. Might as well, right?”

“Right.” Katherine smiled. She meant to take her eyes away but they seemed locked on Davey’s face. He was just so…handsome. She tried to think of a better word but couldn’t (and wasn’t willing to contemplate what that meant for her skills as a writer). She snapped herself out of it. “So you think he’s at the Bowery?”

“Davey! Wait a minute please.” Katherine grabbed Davey’s arm as they made to exit the theater and pulled him into an alcove.

“What’s wrong?” He looked at her with concern.

“David, are you coming?” Les shouted.

“He’ll be there in a minute, Les! I’m just borrowing him.”

“Why are you borrowing me?”

Katherine hadn’t let go of his arm but he didn’t pull away. This was stupid. She never did this and she told herself that there was a reason for it. Katherine had been flirted with by plenty of guys in her life. Most of them, however, just wanted to marry a Pulitzer.

It wasn’t like there weren’t guys she was interested in before, but this felt different. Usually, she developed crushes after she knew a guy for a long time and by then she never thought it was worth ruining a friendship over. The first real conversation she had had with Davey was only a day ago but she already wanted to kiss him.

Was it a bad idea? Probably. Was she going to do it anyway? Probably. It wasn’t like everything she had done in the past week or so wasn’t crazy anyway.

“Hello?” Davey called her attention back to the present. “Katherine, is everything okay?” She nodded. “Are you sure? You don’t seem very sure.”

“I’m sure, Davey.”

“Okay? Then what’s happening?”

“Nothing, I just…” She took a moment to look at him and realized that what she was doing was unfair and selfish. So much was going on right now that he didn’t have the time to think about her. Christ, he was suddenly responsible for feeding his family and co-organizing a strike. And even assuming that he was interested in Katherine, this wasn’t the time for her to have this discussion with him. “Nothing.”

Davey frowned and looked like he was about to say something but he was interrupted before he could even begin.

“Dave! Let’s go! Your brother’s getting antsy!” Jack yelled.

“He really means he’s getting antsy,” Davey told her. She laughed.

“I heard that!”

She found Davey with his head in his hands and elbows on his knees, sitting on a staircase backstage. Les was absent. She sat down on the step above him and said nothing. Katherine had no idea if he noticed her presence or not but she waited anyway.

After a while, he inhaled and said, “I’m an idiot.”

“What? No, you’re not.” Katherine slid down to sit next to him. “Why would you say that?”

He picked his head up and looked at her.

“I can’t believe I thought this would work.”

“We all thought it would. And I don’t think all hope is lost. It’s obvious that everyone else is united and once we get Jack back-”

“I don’t mean the rally!” he said. “I mean the strike.”

“What? Davey, the strike is going to work,” she tried to assure him but he just shook his head.

“No. No.” Davey stood up and started pacing in front of her. “We’re going to have to give in soon and…fuck! Fuck Jack!” Katherine remained silent, thinking it best to let him vent. “Fuck him for making me believe in him and I know this isn’t the point but fuck him for making me look like an idiot! He promised me I wouldn’t have to be the one to speak!”

“You did a really good job, Davey. I’m sure if he had let you keep-”

“I sounded ridiculous! But…” He deflated completely. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I? Without Jack there is no more strike! The newsies need a leader who knows what he’s doing.”

“Nobody knows what they’re doing! This is brand new and none of us know how to do it but the newsies have been following you most of the strike. This is the second time he’s disappeared.”

“You can be the leader then.”

“I’m happy to help but they need a newsie to lead them. You know that.”

Davey shook his head decisively.

“No, I’m not- I can’t be the one to do it. If they still want to then fine but it isn’t going to be me. Race can do it.”

“Davey, you know I like Race but he isn’t going to be able to do it like you would.”

“You saw him the other day in Jacobi’s! He gave everyone hope again without them even realizing what he was doing.”

“And I saw you speaking the first day of the strike. I saw you organize a citywide rally! You’re their de facto leader now! You shook hands with Spot Conlon, which I’m told is a pretty big deal.” Davey scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you listen to yourself and seize the day? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Because there’s nothing to seize anymore! The day’s over.”

“So we start again tomorrow.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I do.” Katherine stood up and went to him. Davey didn’t pull away when she put a hand on his shoulder and she took that as a good sign. “You need to have more faith in yourself. Let’s go find the others and-”

“No.” He shook her off. “No, I’m sorry, Katherine, but I’m finding Les and going home.”

“But-”

“It’s what I should have done as soon as the rally ended. I’m not a strike leader - I’m a brother and a son and that’s my responsibility right now.”

“Davey, stop. You have to be more rational about-”

“Good night, Ms. Plumber.” He kissed her cheek and left.

She watched him walk away. Katherine knew that unless she had a solid plan nothing was going to convince him.

“Oh, and if I were a boy you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!”

“Oh yeah, don’t let that stop you, huh? Give me your best shot!”

Katherine pulled her fist back and punched Jack as hard as she could.

“Fuck!” he screamed and fell to the ground. Katherine shook out her hurt hand, hissing in pain. “What the fuck, Katherine?”

She shrugged.

“You said I could hit you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would! Or that it would hurt that much! Jesus, you can pack a punch.”

“Thank you.”

“At least help me up, would ya?” She begrudgingly extended the hand she hadn’t hit him with and he pulled himself up. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” She paused and looked at him regretfully. Maybe it was wrong to punch him. She was quickly learning that she knew a lot less about the hardships people her age went through and she had no idea what Jack’s life was like. “I…I need to know that you didn’t cave for the money.”

Jack exhaled sharply and turned around.

“No, I spoke the truth. You win a fight when you got the other fella down eating pavement,” he explained sadly. “All right, you heard your father. No matter how many days we strike he ain’t never giving up. I don’t…I don’t know what else we can do!”

“Ah, but I do,” she told him, excited.

“Oh come on.”

“Really, Jack, really? Only you can have a good idea? Or is it because I’m a girl?”

“Oh, I did not say nothing about-”

“This would be a good time to shut up,” Katherine suggested (ordered, really). “Being boss doesn’t mean you have to have all the answers, just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it.” She took the paper out of her pocket.

“I’m listening,” Jack said, sounding beyond exasperated.

“Good for you. The strike was your idea, the rally was Davey’s, and now my plan will take us to the finish line.” He took it from her. “Deal with it.”

“The Children’s Crusade?”

Katherine explained it to him and was pleased that he couldn’t help but admit that it was a good idea - risky, but good. Jack figured out that they could use the printing press in the The World building’s cellar.

“Let’s go,” Jack said. “If we’re going to get this done by morning we need to get started.” She followed him down the firescape but hesitated when they reached the street. “What?”

“Where does Davey live?”

“What, he ain’t at the lodging house with the others?”

Katherine rolled her eyes.

“No, Jack, believe it or not he didn’t hang around waiting for you to come to your senses.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure Les was crying when I saw him and he had to get him home.”

“Well, we ain’t gonna be able to do this without him.”

“Agreed. We just have to convince him of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s lost hope, Jack. He doesn’t think the strike’s going to work.”

“Why?”

“Because you abandoned him! Twice!”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I know that and you know that but he doesn’t,” she explained. “Come on, we have to go get him and you have to apologize.” He started to protest but she shut him up with a single look.

“Well, then you go get those friends of yours you mentioned and I’ll go.”

“We should go together.”

“Why?”

Because she wanted to make sure he was okay. Because she wanted to see his face when he started thinking they could win again. Because she wanted to see him. Jack was right though. They didn’t have time for both of them to go to Davey and it was more important that he did. Reluctantly, Katherine conceded.

“You’re right. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Good luck.”

“What the hell, Katherine? It’s almost one in the morning.” Bill did not look happy to see her.

“Hey!” She pointed to Darcy behind her. “He’s here too, be mad at him!”

“He looks like you dragged him out of bed.”

“She did,” Darcy said with a perfectly timed yawn. Katherine glared at him.

“What’s going on?”

“Get dressed and we’ll explain on the way.”

“Come inside and explain to me while I get dressed. I want to know what I’m getting myself into.” He walked away and left the door open for them. “So how illegal is whatever we’re about to do?” Bill asked from beyond his closed bedroom door.

“Only slightly,” Katherine promised. “We’re sneaking into The World building’s cellar and printing something.”

“Is this about the strike?”

“Yes. We want to shut down the city all together. Not just the newsies, but every working kid.”

“I’m in,” he said without hesitation. “I’m assuming Davey is going to be there?”

“What? How do you know Davey?”

Darcy snorted from his place on the couch.

“You mentioned him at least five times yesterday. It’ll be nice to meet the guy who gave Katherine Pulitzer herself writer’s block.”

“I don’t have writer’s block.”

“Speaker’s block, then,” Bill amended Darcy’s statement as he opened the door. “You kept having trouble describing him.”

“Stop talking, both of you. We need to go. I told Jack we’d be there in an hour and that was forty minutes ago.”

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t want to be late to meet Davey.”

She punched Bill’s arm.

“Ow! What was that for? Darcy’s the one who said it!”

“You enjoyed it more than he did.”

“Katherine!”

“Davey?” She was about to leave to go to the governor but was stopped by a gentle hand on her wrist. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” He kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck.”

“Y-you too.” He turned away with a smile. Behind her, Bill and Darcy laughed quietly. “I hate you both.”

After Jack came outside to tell them that they had won, the newsies bought their papers and took a few minutes to chat and celebrate Crutchie’s return. Most of them didn’t really have time to, but the energy in the air was invigorating and people wanted to be with their friends. Les was talking excitedly to JoJo about something and Katherine took the opportunity to approach Davey, who was counting his papers.

“So, Mr. Jacobs, how are you planning on celebrating your big victory?”

He looked up at her and smiled, though it seemed a little forced.

“I’m going to sell and then go buy food from the grocer’s. Fun, huh?”

“Very. Well, when you’re done with that, I’m taking the boys down to Jacobi’s for dinner this evening. Want to join? I’m buying.”

Davey shook his head regretfully.

“I’d like to but I can’t. Thanks though.”

“Oh. Okay.” Could he actually not come or was she being obvious and this was his way of letting her down easy?

“Sorry, I just haven’t had any time to get chores done in a while.”

“Chores? You just won a strike and you’re going to do chores while everyone else celebrates?”

Davey huffed, apparently annoyed, and put his bag on forcefully.

“Yes, chores. Sorry if that doesn’t work for you, Ms. Pulitzer.”

“What did I do? Why are you so upset with me? Is it about my father? Because you weren’t that-”

“It’s not about your father.”

“Then what is it about?”

“You led me on!” he exclaimed. Davey looked around them and then repeated himself more quietly. “You led me on and you made me think you liked me and then you kissed Jack.”

She sputtered incredulously.

“I kissed Jack on the cheek! Are you serious right now?”

“You’re allowed to kiss whomever you want, Katherine,” he said dismissively and started to walk towards Les.

“Hey! Would you listen to me? I kissed Jack on the cheek! Who told you we kissed? Did Jack? I swear to-”

“No! Not Jack!”

“Then who?”

Davey looked down and picked at a thread on his bag.

“Les,” he eventually admitted. Katherine laughed. “Hey! How was I supposed to know what he meant?”

“Whatever! I’m assuming this means you’re interested?”

“Interested? As in-”

Katherine didn't let him finish before she pulled him into a kiss, heedless of the fact that they were right in front of the distribution window. Davey didn’t freeze for even a second, and kissed her right back, his arms wrapping around her. He had one on her waist and one on her neck. She took the opportunity to draw him in closer, her hands going to his shoulder blades and the back of his head.

It was magical. It wasn’t her first kiss but she could tell it was his. That was okay though. He was excited and passionate about it and Katherine loved it. She felt warm inside and wanted time to step and let the moment last forever.

“Guys!” Katherine heard someone yell, and she distantly thought it might have been Les, but she didn’t really care. Then, there was suddenly more yelling and she smiled into the kiss. Davey pulled away and rested his forehead on hers.

“So? Was that a better celebration than chores, Davey?”

“David.”

“What?”

“I’d- I’d prefer if you called me David.”

Katherine smiled and kissed him again, but only briefly. As she ended the kiss he leaned in for more and she laughed at his eagerness.

“Jacobi’s then? Or are you still too busy?”

“No, I-”

“Davey!” Jack called. David let go of her and turned to him. “Want to do the honors?” Jack held out his hand and pulled him up onto the box.

“Newsies!” David yelled. “Hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, and I’ve got a date!”

Katherine smiled and when he smiled back, it felt like a new beginning.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #david jacobs #davey jacobs #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #davey/katherine #daverine #a new beginning series #stella writes stuff

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that-one-bi-wizard · 4 years

Text

Yo, it’s been a while since I uploaded a one-shot for my Nerd!Jack and Jock!Davey AU, huh? Well, here’s a little something I’ve been wanting to upload for a while. If you wanna read it on my ao3, I have a link here! I’m always taking prompts, so ya’ll can submit prompts for this AU if ya’ll want.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one-shot!

Davey checked the time.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed from the school’s gym. He was glad he got out of practice early because Jack’s art club should be over right about… now.

Jack walked out of the art classroom with paint stains all along his arms. Davey smiled and caught up with him. “Jack!”

Jack beamed when he saw Davey. “Hey, Dave. What’s up?”

“Nothing really. I was let out early, so if you need a ride home…”

“’Course. You know the answers always gonna be yes.” He grabbed Davey’s arm and draped it over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Davey kissed Jack’s forehead and kept his arm wrapped around him until they got to his car. They drove in comfortable silence, listening to only the radio as they watched buildings pass. It wasn’t long before they got to Jack’s apartment building.

Davey checked the time. It was still pretty early. “Want me to walk you to your apartment, Jacky?”

Jack shrugged. “Sure, if ya want.” He got his backpack and took Davey’s hand. He led the taller boy inside and took him to an old elevator. When it opened, he pressed the button for the fifth floor. As they waited, Jack never let go of Davey’s hand. Davey squeezed Jack’s hand. His gaze drifted to Jack. The way the dim light cast gentle shadows over his facial features gave the shorter boy’s face made Davey’s heart race.

He slowly turned to Jack and brought his hand up to make the shorter boy face him. He untangled his fingers from Jack’s and removed the other’s glasses. Jack blinked a few times. “Davey.”

Davey leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Jack kissed back almost immediately. He grabbed Davey by the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer. Then, he wrapped his arms around him. Davey did the same.

It felt as if Jack was the only person in the world. Everything around them disappeared. It was only them. Only them.

Well, until…

“Am I interrupting somthin’ important?”

They immediately pulled apart. Davey felt heat rise to his face. A shorter man stood just outside the elevator door with his arms crossed and a stone, cold expression on his face. Davey wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or intimidated.

Jack just scoffed and stepped out of the elevator. “Shut up, Spot. It ain’t like you and Racer haven’t done worse.” He grabbed the taller boy’s hand and pulled him next to him. “What are you doin’ anyway?”

The man pat Jack on the back. “I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while, so I decided to do your job and go get the mail for ya.” He looked from Jack to Davey. “Apparently, you were too busy to do it anyway.”

Davey looked down at his feet not wanting to make eye contact with this man he didn’t know. Jack squeezed his hand. “I keep forgetting you twos haven’t met. Spot, this is my boyfriend. Davey, this is my older brother, Sean, but we call ‘im Spot.”

Davey felt his stomach twist. He looked up from his feet and waved awkwardly. “Hi… uh, I’m David Jacobs… it’s nice to meet you.” He held his hand out.

The older man looked at it but kept his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah…whatever you say,” he muttered. “You can just call me Sean.” He turned his attention to Jack. “I’ll be right back. Just tell Ma to start dinner without me.”

“Okay,” Jack responded.

The shorter man disappeared behind the metal doors of the elevator.

Davey felt himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He shoved his hands in his pocket and handed Jack back his glasses. “You never told me you had a brother.”

Jack took out his house key from his pocket. “You never asked.”

Davey looked back cautiously as if Jack’s brother would come back up and beat him over the head with a bat. “I don’t think he likes me much.”

Jack just laughed. “Well, you certainly left one hell of a first impression, didn’t ya?” Jack saw Davey’s expression and his tone became more serious. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. He’s a little threatenin’ at first, but he’s a real softie once ya get to know ‘im. Anyway, thanks again for the ride. See ya tomorrow, Davey.” He gave him one last kiss on the cheek before heading inside.

A smile tugged at Davey’s face as he turned to leave.

When he got to the first floor, he saw Jack’s brother again. He gave an awkward smile, but the other just rolled his eyes. “C’mere.”

Davey looked around then pointed to himself with a questioning look. Spot motioned for him to come. “Yeah, you. Now, get your ass over here.”

Davey walked quickly to where Spot was. Davey knew he was tall, but compared to him Spot was short. He noticed how Spot had the same dark hair as Jack just cut shorter and the same hazel eyes. Spot’s were just more threatening.

He also had quite the opposite fashion sense as his brother. Jack was usually dressed fairly nicely in a button-up and a white undershirt. This man looked like he borrowed his clothes from a biker. He wore a black leather jacket, dark red muscle shirt and ripped jeans. Spot looked Davey up and down with the most unimpressed expression Davey had ever seen.

“David, huh? Jack talks about a lot about ya.”

“All good things, hopefully,” Davey joked hoping to lighten the mood. Apparently, Spot wasn’t one to joke.

“Yeah… I don’t buy it though. What do you want from him?”

Davey was taken aback by the question. “What?”

His voice dropped and became more aggressive. He grabbed Davey by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to meet his eyes. “You heard me. What do you want? Money? Sex? You want ‘im to do your schoolwork for you?”

Davey rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I don’t want anything! I just… really like Jack. It’s not my fault he kissed me in the elevator!”

Spot’s gaze never left him. He just shook his head and released the taller boy. Davey wrung his hand together. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Spot sighed. “Whatever. Look, you better watch yourself because if I hear you did anything to make my little brother uncomfortable or cry, I’m gonna mess you up so bad, you won’t be able to walk for months. And if you even think about breakin’ his heart, you best believe you won’t be able to walk ever again or breathe right! Got it?”

Davey nodded frantically. “Yes, sir!”

Spot smirked. “Good. See ya around ‘Davey’.” He turned and disappeared into the building.

Davey remained silent, his feet unwilling to move. He let out a shaky breath. “What the hell?”

Davey was hoping he wouldn’t have to see Spot again anytime soon.

Well, he was shit out of luck with that. He and Jack had a project they needed to work on due Monday. They couldn’t go to the library because it closed early on Fridays. They couldn’t go to Davey’s house because his aunt and uncle were visiting and he didn’t want to deal with them right now. So, the only other place to go was Jack’s place.

As they entered, there was no sign of Spot, which was a good thing. They were greeted by a tall, dark woman who had such a contagious smile.

“Jack!” She greeted. “How was your day, hon?”

Jack hugged her. “Good, Ma. Dave and I got a project we gotta work on.”

She released Jack and turned to Davey with a smile. “David! Well, if it ain’t the boyfriend I’ve been hearing so much about!” She hugged him.

Davey stiffened and looked over at Jack, who was silently laughing to himself. Considering how threatening Spot was, Davey expected Jack’s mom to be less… cheerful.

She took a step back and put a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “I’m Miss Medda Larkins, but you can call me Miss Medda or just Medda.”

Davey laughed nervously. “Heh…thank you, ma’am.”

“Jack’s told us so much about you, and you are every bit as handsome as he said you were.”

Davey chuckled. “Really?” He glanced over at Jack, who had a light shade of pink on his cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Medda.”

Jack grabbed Davey’s arm. “Okay, Ma. We’re gonna be in my room workin’.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just behaves yourselves. I’ll call you two when dinner’s ready.”

Jack’s blush grew darker. “Okay, Ma. Love ya.” He dragged Davey to his room.

It was really small with only a bed and nightstand as the only pieces of furniture. His walls had cracks and chipped paint with sketches and canvases with Jack’s art covering as much of them as possible. Jack closed the door behind them.

Davey sat on Jack’s bed. “Your mom seems nice. She doesn’t look anything like you though. I’m guessing you get your looks from your dad?”

Jack shrugged. “Good question. I’ll let ya know if I ever meet ‘im or my mom.”

Davey’s heart sank. “Oh… Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Jack waved a dismissive hand. “Pssh, it’s fine. Medda’s our foster mom. She adopted Spot and me when we were little.” He smiled to himself. “Anyway, I never thought of her as someone who could intimidate anyone, but you shoulda seen the look on your face when she hugged ya.” He sat next to Davey.

Davey shook his head. Then, he smirked. “So, you tell your family you think I’m handsome?”

The blush returned. “Shut up!” He grabbed his pillow and whacked Davey with it.

Davey laughed. “Aw, come on. I just think it’s cute.” He put an arm around Jack’s waist and brought him closer.

“Whatever,” Jack murmured. He whacked the taller boy again only to get another laugh.

“Okay, okay. I’m done. Let’s just get to work.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

They worked for about an hour or two. Doing research, organizing information, cracking some jokes here and there. It was nice honestly. The two ultimately ended up cuddling with their legs tangled up together.

It was all good until…

Jack’s bedroom door slammed open.

Davey almost fell off the bed, bringing the smaller boy with him. His chest tightened when he saw who it was.

“The hell you doin’ in here with the door closed?”

“Dammit, Spot! Ya almost scared us half to death!” Jack sat up.

Spot stood in the doorway with his same stone expression and his arms crossed. “Did Ma let you twos shut the door? You two coulda been doing somethin’ nasty in here. Leave your damn door open, Jack!”

Jack groaned. “Fine. Just get outta here, Spot.”

Spot shot one last look at Davey then left.

“Ugh, sorry Davey. He’s usually at his boyfriend’s house on the weekends. I don’t know why he’s here.”

Davey waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. I just get the feeling he doesn’t trust me.”

“You kiddin’? This is the nicest he’s treated anyone in a while. When he thought Kath and I were dating, he wouldn’t let her in the apartment!”

Davey thought back to their conversation the previous day and shuddered. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Jack punched Davey’s arm. He peeked outside the door then lowered his voice. “He’s been overprotective our whole lives. I think it’s ‘cause I’m technically the only family he’s got left, and he don’t want anythin’ happening to me. What he don’t get is that I can take care of myself. I don’t need him scarin’ people off for me.”

Davey nodded slowly. “I get it. But it’s going to take more than an overprotective brother to scare me off.” Davey smiled assuredly.

Jack laughed. “You sure ‘bout that. ‘Cause he’s probably gonna be on your ass for the next few months. You sure you can handle that.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Jackie.”

Davey leaned in to kiss Jack but stopped midway when he heard Medda call their names.

Jack stood up and pulled Davey up after him. He draped the taller boy’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, Ma made dinner.”

Davey smirked. “Great. Now, I can ask her just how much you talk about me.”

Jack punched him again playfully. “Shut up!”

#newsies au #newsies #david jacobs #jack kelly #nerd!jack #jock!davey #high school au #javid #spot conlon #newsies fanfiction

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jenny-kirk · 4 years

Text

Story Time with Jenny: Swimming

That one time Micah agreed to have a splash about. When I got things wrong.

(Sad-Fluff- blueballs Micah)

The supply wagon, practically falling apart from overuse, creaked below the boots of those offloading it.

“Careful you don’t break your back there grandad,” Jenny mocked towards a disgruntled Pearson, recognising the humour within the girl’s comments although not sharing in its effects in the slightest.

That was usually the way it was these days. Banter, mock comments and the odd flirtation were all in good humour, although not always seen as such by others.

Davey on the other hand received only flirtatious looks as Jenny deliberately bent over when picking up crate after crate, revelling in her ability to fluster him while brushing off his advances.

Placing the final crate upon the food wagon’s flimsy table, Jenny observed the numerous preserved goods, canned and sealed for storage. Beans, Peaches, Strawberries and some rather suspicious looking pickled eggs among the haul. Yuck.

Blackwater was a far more beautiful sight, laying lazily across the horizon. Jenny had decided as much merely upon her first venture through the town despite its ghastly smell and occasional dubious inhabitants. And their camp, just to the West of the dockyard, perched atop a hillside, was perfect. Quiet, fun and oppotunistic.

Such regular observations had Miss Kirk’s attention drifting away into the breeze. Closing her eyes, content, happily inhaling the afternoon scent, a smile plastered across her rosey face. Cigarettes, damp wood and grass, a stew being brewed in the back and the lingering perfume of the campfire.

Pondering on how best to fill the rest of her day, Jenny considered many things. Robbing folk in town, but of course they were meant to keep a low profile... maybe mocking some of the ‘lazier’ in camp instead would be a good laugh? Of course she could more or less get away with it.

Life was good. And recently, got a lot better. There was however one thing that still bugged the naive woman...

That gentle warm breeze soon carried across a sound the brunette had become used to over the past few weeks, painting a gleam across her lightly-freckled face.

A deliberately loud sigh turned Jenny’s attention to the blonde man with whom she had only a short while ago made a secret arrangement with.

Waltzing over, the heavy man leant against the countertop she worked at, making it bend uncharacteristically under the pressure. Her gentle yet irritated hazel gaze meeting Mr Bell’s icy blue one, that appallingly obnoxious smirk, so cocky and proud.

“Misssss Kirk, how are you doin’?”

His words spaced and separated, hardly a sentence at all. It was usual for the two to flirt and had been for quite a while, however as always, Jenny scanned the other’s face, scarred and wrinkled as it was, sour and bitter all at once, for any inkling of what approach to take to best irritate or please him at any given time.

Jenny was nothing if not observant.

Maybe it was because of this, or the simple fact that Miss Kirk didn’t brush Micah off, she listened, she disapproved but she heard him. Joking and flirting while others (understandably) avoided him like the plague.

Mentally taking note of each interaction and habit, trying to make sense of the enigma before her. A man she hated yet lusted after. Because that's all it was! Lust and convenience. Despite her good nature desperate to find something redeemable within him that seemed not to exist in the slightest.

“I’m well Mr Bell, and you?” Her gaze cautious of those around them.

“Good, good...y’got any plans this evenin’?” The question seemed strained, forced, as if it was difficult, awkward even to say.

Jenny initially felt her face turn a little redder, assuming the question to be a subtle way of saying ‘best you be ready for tonight, I'm gonna fuck you over a barrel all night long n’ if you ain’t quiet, you ain’t getting no relief.’ That was after all the arrangement that had been made.

But that wasn’t his style, to sugarcoat things that is. It would be much easier for him to simply say to meet him at a designated place at a specific time.

“Fixin’ to go swimming later”

Her reply casual, denying Micah whatever plans he held in mind. Micah merely huffed a chuckle, uneasily looking about. Embarrassed at whatever he had in mind being rejected perhaps?

“That so is it?”

“You have somethin’ else in mind?” acting aloof to add to the irritation unaware of Micah’s real intention- a meal in town, followed of course by copious amounts of alcohol and a cheap bed for the night. His way of showing she was potentially more than just his next good fuck.

“You should join me, you uh, could do with a wash.”

“Hm, very funny.” Micah’s unamused features let out an aggrivated sigh partnered with an impatient glare. Something on the tip of his tongue he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Then I suppose you ain’t wanting to go to town with me?”

The invitation took Jenny by surprise, eyes widening, stopping what she was doing to examine the sincerity of his words before carefully deciding her response, continuing to empty the crate on the table.

So far their arrangement had kept business nearby camp, around the back and to the outskirts, the two only leaving when on a job. It was after all still early days. Now he wanted to take her to town?

“What you got a job need doin’?”

“No”

That blunt response merely confused Jenny further. The blonde man irritated in her not agreeing directly yet not wishing to explain his intentions for the embarrassment of rejection or his being viewed as weak.

“’fraid not Mr Bell. Not tonight at least...”

“Tomorrow then” Micah more-so demanded then asked, his way or the highway. Going off with himself after a snort and a grumble Jenny rolled her eyes. What was that man playing at now...

Despite having made a secret agreement with the man, she still pondered over his antagonistic nature. It was so difficult to know when he wasn't teasing and like so many, Jenny didn’t wish to be the butt of his ‘jokes’. Was he capable of being ‘decent’? Not offending someone for five minutes? Maybe through their agreement Jenny could subtly challenge that on his own terms. Afterall she played the game by his rules.

All of these thoughts passed through Jenny’s head as the day rolled along and, keeping to her word, she readied herself for a swim as the evening approached.

Only just submerging herself underneath the murky cover, gasping coming up for air, the cold creating pin like sensations across her skin while the stench of the unsavoury water had her pulling an unsatisfied face.

The uncomfortable feeling that wakes you up at night, when you’re scared from the ghost story around the campfire, when you should be alone yet you sense a pair of eyes watching over you. That feeling, suddenly became present within the pit of Jenny’s stomach.

Looking about, her hair kept tidy by two individual braids, the figure of someone, a man, standing on the coastline was visible. Red and white. Micah.

A smirk overcoming her, Jenny waved an arm beckoning him over, when he refused to move Jenny made her way closer to the shoreline.

Micah never seemed to have any regular fun. Perhaps killing, robbing and mocking was the closest he had to that. But maybe, just maybe she’d see a new side of him. See if he was capable of gentility, of innocent playfulness. Naive curiosity she knew Micah had no time for yet insisted was explored at least once. He tolerated her behaviour enough, so why would he not partake in it?

Part of their agreement insisted that emotions remain unattached. It wasn't sensible in their line of work and if camp found out of their affair it would spill the end of any respect Jenny harboured. Still, understanding him was worth a try, satisfying each-other in more ways than one.

Sure they’d kissed, but it was nothing meaningful. They were very much heat of the moment markings of power and playfulness more than anything else. Not an ounce of emotion or meaning in it.

Micah’s face told a story on its own. His features were not furrowed as usual, he didn’t look irritated, nor sad, angry or even cheerful. Just, observant, lost in thought. Relaxed and calm? It was peculiar, a gentle look she’d found unusual, unintentionally making Miss Kirk cock her head to one side, a thoughtful pout across her rosey lips as she unattractively choked on some water.

“Mr Bell, y’ain’t gettin’ wet with me?” Her usual teases and innuendos trying to break the distant glance from his features and coax his presence to join her in an activity besides fucking.

Looking around to check no one was watching Micah smirked shaking his head, that long string of a chuckle wavering on with a wave of his finger.

“Mh, this one time sugar, since you asked so nicely.”

Of course Micah was not very enthusiastic about submerging himself within such a disgusting river despite the presence of a woman such as Jenny convincing him otherwise.

Removing his boots was the indication Jenny needed as she smiled in return, noticing while she at least had her undergarments to protect her somewhat from the climate of the water, Micah on the other hand had no such thing.

Both submerged in the cold water Micah was visibly biting back complaints of the cold. His skin bumped, hair on ends.

“See, ain’t so bad once y-”

“Shut up” he clung his arms about his torso in protest. Jenny could only find amusement in his discontentment before he threw the dirtied water over his head, cleaning out his hair to the best of his ability hoping the action would help him get used to the cold, despite splashing Jenny in the process. More water going down her throat, mouth having been open from giggling.

“Hey! Watch it”

“Accident’s happen Miss Kirk, you should know-”

The water fight that ensued shutting the pair up brought forward only laughter and similar snide remarks to toy with one another, both of them soaked to the core before long.

At first Micah was angry, humiliated, frozen and submerged, but soon gave into the game under the expectation that he should most certainly be rewarded for such generously tolerant behaviour.

As the energy and laughter died down Jenny watched Micah carefully, how he seemed to unwind despite keeping watch for potential passers by, regularly telling her to shut her mouth.

“You’re hair’s still greasy” the shorter of the two observed mockingly but without giving Micah time to respond with an insult of his own Jenny clambered closer, bringing a cupped handful of slimy water over his head, dripping it down before working it into his scalp.

Tongue poking from her mouth in concentration, for Jenny it was a task as any other. She was only helping him keep clean after all.

For Micah however, his face was that of confusion, anger and realisation all at once. Why was she helping him? Not that he needed it! And how dare she mother him so! THIS was why attachments were wrong, the mistake his brother made, to be coddled and chased after by a woman wishing to set the world to right, to control you and your life!

Yet, Jenny knew he called the shots... Maybe this was merely a tendency of her’s he'd have to deter...

Yet for some reason, Micah didn’t erupt. Not yet. He watched, irritation clenching his jaw keeping his eyes tight and trained. There was something soothing, something weak to it that he didn’t like. Yet Micah made no attempt to remove himself from the situation. Her smaller hands kneading into his scalp.

There was something lacking in the arrangement, mutually identified yet hidden. But for the first time, Jenny saw a slip in Micah. Wanting to relax despite irritation and embarrassment. Resentment for enjoying something he’d drilled himself never to enjoy.

Maybe just maybe, this was a step in the right direction. Playing the game as he called it, while every so often subtly including gentility. Care. To show it wasn’t weak, caring never got anyone killed...so far.

Hardly a minute had passed that Jenny had fixed the older man’s hair, yet her hand lingered. Her eyes tailed him, the way his light brows creased, the scar on his chin she so desperately wanted to touch. To be close to. To trace and ponder over. Realising she was lost in thought and Micah seemed rather unimpressed although silent, Jenny removed her hand.

“This, I've enjoyed this. Maybe we’ll do it again?”

“Maybe. It’s real cold y’know,” Micah gesturing downwards suggestively, “I know what you’ve been playing’ at darlin’ n’ I think ol’ Micah deserves a treat.”

It was obvious what Micah expected Jenny to do to overcome the issue he faced. However Jenny was curious to see how long Mr Bell could enjoy the moment without things turning sexual. Not that she was looking for anything more than that but to answer her wonder for if such a thing was possible for a man such as himself. A naive mistake.

A soft shrug had Jenny’s small palms grazing across Micah’s torso and belly. Studying it before looking towards where Micah wished her hands to roam, making her fateful decision not to obey for once.

Moving closer to him their body heat merged pressed together, technically a way to warm up although not the one Micah was hinting at.

Tracing each scar and mark across his belly, clear she was not intending to follow through with his suggestion Jenny gazed up to the blonde, a smaller hand reached towards that slanted scar, mouth parted in curiosity.

It was no surprise when Micah backed away, a disapproving, no, disgusted look over his face.

Maybe the others were right when they spoke behind his back. Maybe Mr Bell was really all bad, no ounce of redemption to be found. no shiny glimmer of hope Jenny was determined to search for.

If only she had accepted his invitation. Not pursued her own naive curiosity of looking for the best within even the most hardened of criminals.

Now she’d somehow offended him, caused him grief. Micah was undeniably someone in camp it was better to have as a friend rather than an enemy...she knew what he was capable of. Jenny would be sure never to make that mistake again. Micah Bell really wasn’t capable of emotion? Of care?

“Micah I-i’m sorry I didn’t mean t-I thought-” Guilt and regret ripping through her as Micah continued to back away.

“You’re wasting’ your time out here in the cold, the water stinks besides. Excuse me.”

With that Micah left just as quickly as he had joined. Sour faced and miserable, hurrying on back to camp as Jenny shivered in the water thinking on the encounter.

Why was he so sharpish to retreat...had she struck a nerve? Or was Micah unfamiliar with something, scared of his own emotions? Well...either way, it was clearly not Jenny’s place to explore.

As nighttime fell, dried and clean following her swim, mind still racing, heart still pounding. Jenny once again found herself entwined on Micah’s lap by the fireplace, flirting and joking as if nothing had happened.

Maybe some day he’d open up. She’d learn why he was so vile, so unpredictable and changeable. She knew from the rare tales told by the fire that his upbringing left much to be desired. But to what extent?

Maybe one day, the mislead man would learn to change, to open his heart. Not that Jenny was looking for an ‘attachment’ with the man, their agreement purely sexual. But maybe, just maybe. He could learn to care for someone, something, besides himself.

#fluff #Story time with jenny #Micah x Jenny #headcanons #headcanon #nsft?#Micah Bell x Jenny Kirk #Micah Bell #Jenny Kirk

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noxleyfin · 4 years

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Newsies Imagine: Homeless And Annoyed PART 2

Newsies x 13-year-old (M) Newsie (Homeless And Annoyed) Part. 2

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: this kids done with his living situation and stumbles upon a fellow guy in need. → warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, strong language, stupid Delancey's, bad writing → word count: 1097 → completion: done → (Y/N) - Your Name

Saturday, August 15th, 1899 5:04 p.m. 2nd Person POV

Life sucks. And that’s a fact.

“Hey, dirtbag! Where ya’ running to?” Your new ‘friend’ called from behind you.

Up your mother’s ass.

Of course, you didn’t say that. Probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea.

What you really said was, “Didn’t know there was a curfew, Nerf Herder!”

...That probably wasn’t much better, was it?

“The hell you call me?”

You turned into your alley. “You deaf or somethin’?”

Swinging your body around, you watched the dark shadow figure follow behind you.

Well, at least this one isn’t super ugly. It’s real embarrassing to get beat by a guy who’s less handsome than you. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often. He was older than you, maybe by 5 years. His face was bare of any hair but his dumb looking hat distracted you from the fact that he hasn’t puberty yet. You’ve seen him around before; he and his brother like to go around messing with people. Speaking of which, where is his brother?

“So you found the rat, Oscar?”

Speak of the asshole.

“He tried to escape, but he couldn’t get past me,” Oscar informed his brother with a smirk.

You just stood there looking at them and they looked at you.

“Get him.”

Your mind was fuzzy after he said that.

“Geroff!”

You could faintly hear the sound of your body flopping to the ground and the insults that the brothers yelled at you as white-hot pain exploded everywhere. “Leave me alone!”

It felt different from when that one man kicked you in the chest, that had only lasted a few days but this felt like it would stay with you forever. “I’m...I’m warning’ ya’.” You don’t even remember when they stopped hitting you.

“Hey! Leave ‘em alone!”

And then it went dark.

Sunday, August 16th, 1899 8:13 a.m. 3rd Person POV

“What’s gonna happen to him?”

“I got no clue, Kid.”

“But what about his family?”

Les wasn’t exactly happy about what happened to his new friend. The night before, while on a walk, Race and Jojo had found a half-dead (Y/N) unconscious in an alley with the Delancys on top of them. When they finally managed to chase them away, they dragged him between them to the Lodging House. The warden had sent for a doctor and Snipeshooter ran to the Jacobs’ apartment to bring David and Les along. Les, unfortunately, was not allowed to stay the night so only David could come. When he saw what had happened to the boy who had reunited him with his little brother, he went into a rage, mumbling about how he was gonna kill Oscar and Morris, all while wiping at the bloody wound on (Y/N)’s forehead.

After he cleaned them up to the best of his ability, the doctor arrived with the warden and Davey was shoved to the side. With an extensive evaluation, the doctor concluded that while nothing was broken (thank god), he had a severe concussion and was ordered to stay in bed for at least a week. The newsies gave him the extra bunk that David usually used while he slept over. In the meantime, David decided to sleep on the old couch in the front room. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but he wasn’t leaving. He felt a strange protectiveness over the young boy, like he was another younger brother.

Jack sighed. Les had been brought over by Race not too long ago and wouldn’t shut his trap. We love the kid but (Y/N) was right, the kid really is annoying.

“We don’t even know if the guy has a family or not, Kid. We just have to wait ta ask him.” He explained.

“C’mon, Les,” David called from the corner. “Leave Jack alone. Wanna draw with Smalls?” He gestured to the close-in-age girl sitting next to him.

Smalls looked up with a smile and waved Les over. Les grinned and jogged over and was handed a green crayon and the two kids began to color together. At this point, David started to worry and for the fifth time that day, sat next to (Y/N) and brushed some hair out of his face.

“Dave,” Jack sighed from his spot at the cards table, “Leave the poor kid alone. You gonna give him a heart attack when he wakes up.”

David sighed and began to stand up, knowing Jack was right, but as soon as he did, a soft groan emitted from (Y/N)’s body. Conversations stopped as everyone stared at the young boy. Jack and Davey were the closest and therefore, the first faces he saw when (Y/N) finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, more groans and grunts coming out as he did. However, when he saw who was above him, he was not happy.

“Get away!” He started to yell. He went to sit up but Jack held him down...only making (Y/N) more mad but he only attempted to fight for a few minutes before falling back in exhaustion. “Where...where am I?” He stuttered out, trying to move his head but hissing at the pain it caused.

“Woah! Slow down, Kid,” Jack did his best to calm him down but he was still attempting to fight the tight grip on his shoulders.

“Please let me go,” (Y/N) begged. David could see tears forming in his eyes. His gaze met Jack’s and he nodded to the other boy.

Jack slowly let go of (Y/N)’s shoulders but didn’t put his arms down right away.

“Is’okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Eventually (Y/N) relaxed back into the hard mattress but anyone could see he was still tense; that is, everyone except Les. As soon as he thought was appropriate, the boy rushed over to the other, ignoring Smalls’ offended look when he threw her green crayon to the floor.

“(Y/N)!” He called out, smiling brighter than he had in a fair while.

Once (Y/N) saw Les, at first he grimaced but it soon melted into a reluctant smile. “Hey, Kid,” he called briefly. That was enough for the expectant Les. He began to ramble on about nothing and everything while David and Jack backed off, choosing to ignore (Y/N)’s desperate look. They exited the room and spoke quietly despite being away from the group.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” David asked.

Jack thought for a moment. He and the others had seen the flinches and heard the boy’s not so quiet pleas back in the bunkroom; it wasn’t hard to determine what had possibly happened to him in previous times. He sighed deeply before answering his friend, “I’m not sure, Dave. But that’s what we’re here for.”

#newsies #newsiesimagine #Jack Kelly #david jacobs #strike #imagine #writing #newsies broadway #newsies x reader #katherine pulitzer #newsies live #Les Jacobs #crutchie morris #musical theatre #i suck at writing #kill me slowly

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jackie-think-about-it · 5 years

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Covered in the Colors

this started out as an excuse for me to write about colors but then it spiraled out of control as usual. my first newsies fic!!!

Modern AU Javid!

DISCLAIMER: I have no idea how crushes or romance work so if I’m laying it on too thick, that’s why

Jack Kelly was a creature of habit. As much as he loved spontaneity and thrived in it, there were some things he just had to do. Painting sessions with Medda, his adopted mother, was one of them. Every Tuesday, he would pick her up and they would drive to the studio where he worked (Of course, the habit started because of the staff discount!), where the following hours would be filled with ‘happy little trees’ and varying degrees of finished artwork. Don’t tell anyone, but Jack always hung around extra to study the canvases and mentally hand out corrections here and there. It was yet another habit. Being an art teacher had its effects, after all.

This session in particular shouldn’t have been any different. He may have bribed the girl leading the session (Smalls, his brain helpfully supplied) with a month’s supply of her favorite candies to do a desert/sunset painting, so he was looking forward to getting his hands on it. He opened the door for Medda, offering a hand gallantly, laughing when she took it and daintily stepped out of the beat-up truck like it was Cinderella’s carriage.

“I didn’t know I’d raised such a gentleman!” She grinned as they walked into the classroom, where Smalls was setting up easels, brushes, and cups of paint water. There were about 20 minutes until the session officially started, but Jack made an effort to come early every week to organize the paints and help register the attendees. He busied himself with the palettes, retorting “Nah, Mama, I’m an eldritch being of chaos trapped in a human body and you know it!” like it was second nature. It was.

He balanced the stack precariously in his arms, which in hindsight was a catastrophe waiting to happen. The leaning tower of palettes decided to come crumbling down while he was near the door; just his luck. The resounding clatter drew Smalls and Medda’s attention, and Jack huffed in annoyance, crouching down to pick them back up. Before he nabbed all of them, another pair of hands appeared in his peripheral.

“Here, let me help you with that.” The most attractive man Jack had ever seen was also on the floor, handing him the palettes that managed to escape his grasp. He was lanky, with dark brown, wavy hair, bright, hazel eyes, strong, hooked nose, and a gorgeous, easy smile. Jack mumbled his thanks, hurriedly distributing them and side-eyeing the brunet (who had gone to register with Smalls) with a smile. Time flew after that, and before long, everyone else had come and the session began.

The powers that be must have found favor with Jack today, because the pretty stranger chose a station right across from his. They went around the room, introducing themselves, but most of their names and occupations escaped his attention. When it was his newfound muse’s turn, he smiled shyly, and wow. Jack decided there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to bring that smile onto his handsome face.

“Hey, um, my name’s David, and I’m a gra- um, grad student,” he said with a voice that probably made angels jealous. David, huh? Pretty name for a pretty guy. Jack shelved the information mentally, before screeching to a halt. What kind of bullshit was this? He wasn’t one to fall for people out of nowhere. Why would this evening and this guy be any different? How did he know he wasn’t straight or something? As the instructions began, he lost himself to the familiar rhythm of brushstrokes and beautiful scenery, only glancing over every so often at David. Jack could easily excuse that as checking the reference picture, since from his perspective, it was just behind him.

It only half surprised Jack that when he looked down, a face was taking shape in the red tones of his landscape. He really was whipped, wasn’t he? Medda nudged his elbow, and when he turned, she gave him a sly wink. Immediately, his face turned red, and he put his face in his hands. “Mama!” He hissed quietly, before jerking his hands back like he’d been burned. Too late, he realized that his fingers were covered in paint, so that meant… Great. Good going, Kelly. He wiped off what he could, taking out his phone to check his reflection. Pink, purple, and orange were smeared on his cheeks, as well as a smattering of red on his nose. How did that even get there?

Jack scrubbed at his face with some water and a paper towel, successfully removing the worst of the acrylic mess. Then, he looked around to make sure nobody else (well, Medda didn’t count, but she’d seen things much more embarrassing than that) saw what happened. That’s when his eyes landed on David yet again. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, and his lips were pursed in a thin line. Jack couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss them- Nope, moving on. David’s hands were like another canvas altogether, stained with sunlight and mesas and sky. They were totally worth waxing poetic over! Long, musicians’ fingers (probably; Jack could tell because he used to dabble in piano), with streaks of paint down the sides from quick fixes and broad palms dappled with white like stars.

He cleared his throat, tapping the other man’s easel with the clean end of a brush as soon as his hands were off it. “David, right? ‘M gonna call you Davey.” When he snorted and didn’t show any sign of hating the nickname, Jack grinned and continued. “Graduate school, huh? So what’s a busy guy like you doin’ here?”

Davey shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “My, uh, my sister booked it for me, told me that I needed to stop studying for once in my life.” He let out a chuckle, and Jack could’ve sworn he couldn’t be more infatuated with this man, but here he was. Damn. It took a few minutes to realize that he was waiting for Jack’s own reason, and he stammered out a reply. “I work here, so my mom and I get discounted tickets. It’s a weekly kinda thing?”

“That’s awesome! So, Jack, you’re an artist?” When he nodded, Davey raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing in a beginner’s class, trying to make us all look bad?” He laughed as Jack sputtered, trying to come up with some kind of response that didn’t make him look like a jackass. (Get it? Jack-ass?) “It’s honestly a little mind numbing,” here he got a mild glare from Smalls, so he shot her an apologetic grin, “but it’s nice to do something easy and let my mind wander once a week.” Of course, this week, his mind decided to wander towards the tall freakin’ god in front of him.

Davey pursed his lips, before breaking into a smile. “I was honestly expecting something less deep, but.. Wow.” He let out a breath, looking down at his canvas. Jack gasped in mock offense, a hand raised to his heart. “David! I cannot believe- Are you callin’ me an idiot?” Because you’d be right, his brain filled in. Thanks, brain. Now it was the other man’s turn to flounder like a fish out of water, finally blurting “That’s no- that isn’t what I meant! Nonono, I meant that in a good way! Promise.” Jack watched him turn red with embarrassment, before the pair broke out into quiet laughter.

Before he knew it, the session was almost over. The hours passed by with easy, somewhat flirty conversation and laughing. Jack’s painting was pretty much finished, other than that face smiling back at him. In a moment of pure impulse, he decided to leave it on there. He was taking it home, Davey surely wouldn’t see it! Right..? “Hey, Jack! Can I see what yours looks like?” Well, shit. Jack chuckled nervously, shaking his head, and Davey grinned teasingly. “Oh, c’mon! It’s probably just going to make everyone feel bad about theirs or something!”

In another moment of pure impulse, he relented. He turned his canvas around, and Davey smiled. “See? That looks great!” Then, his eyes fell on the part Jack desperately wanted him to overlook, and he gasped. “Is that- is that me?” He leaned in closer, and oh boy was Jack about to melt into a little puddle of embarrassment. “Uh, maybe?” He squeaked, shuffling his feet. He was relieved to see Davey smile, blushing slightly. “It’s super good! I’m flattered.”

Jack took a deep breath, before steeling his nerves. “Um.. Could I draw you for real, sometime? And maybe take you out for a coffee after?” He was hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. Imagine his surprise when Davey blushed further. “I’d really, um, really like that.” They made plans to meet the following Thursday, and Jack smiled. “It’s a date!” He tried not to sound as ecstatic as he felt, but it was definitely there. After they said their goodbyes, Medda winked at him, having watched this all go down. "Aw, shaddup Ma," he groaned, picking up the canvas and smiling at Davey's face chiseled into the landscape. Underneath it lay a neatly scrawled phone number, and Jack knew that he would treasure this painting for years to come.

#newsies #newsies musical #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #fanfiction #newsies fanfiction #my writing #modern au

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what-stop-the-presses-rly-means · 5 years

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Bye, Bye, Sugar Blue Eyes part 5

Race x female reader modern au

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, x, 6

Warnings: Swearing and mention of death

A/N: I know I’m horrible for making you guys wait so long. So here’s a longer chapter to make up for it!

————————

Race paid the cab driver and wheeled his luggage up to the front steps. It was fairly peaceful this early in the morning. He just stood there and admired the building for a moment, breathing it in. After a long, hard, emotionally draining three months, he was home.

He took a deep breath and walked in. It was quiet and unnaturally clean, but the place was as familiar and inviting as always. Smiling a little to himself, Race carried his bags upstairs.

Once he reached the landing, something felt off. It should be dead quiet this early in the morning, but he could hear soft singing down the hall and people shuffling about in the boys’ rooms. He quietly opened the door to the younger boys’ room and peeked his head in.

“Race!” one of them shouted, only to immediately be shushed by a couple others. Race only had enough time to close the door before they all ran up to hug him.

“What’s goin’ on, fellas?” he laughed.

“We’re so happy you’re back!”

“Never leave again!”

They all whisper-shouted at him. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Why are we being so quiet? Not wanting to wake the others?”

“No,” Peter said quietly, “We’re listening to Miss (Y/N) sing.”

Just then the door behind them opened and one of the teens, Henri, walked in. “What the hell are you guys doing? You need to be qui- Race!”

“Hey, Frenchie!” The boy gave him a tight hug. “Why are we being quiet? Are there a bunch of new rules or somethin’? They’re runnin’ a tight ship around here.” Frenchie gave him a sheepish look.

“No, we choose to do this. (Y/N) wakes up really early and we all like to listen to her sing…”

Peter grabbed his attention again. “I like her singing. It’s like having a mom.”

“It’s something nice to wake up to. She has a nice voice,” another young boy, Gus, adds. Race paused, trying to listen. Her quiet voice could be heard from down the hall. She was singing some cheery, upbeat song. It did sound nice, he decided.

“Do you guys do this every morning?”

“On weekdays usually,” Frenchie mumbled, obviously embarrassed. Race nodded.

“Okay, well I’m gonna go say hi. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Don’t tell her!”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I’m just gonna introduce myself.” He stood up and quietly walked out into the hallway. The sound of her voice was much clearer and Race found himself leaning on the wall, just listening for a moment. He’d been back less than thirty minutes and this place already had a new, homier feel to it. Of course it wasn’t a complete surprise. He had kept in touch with his friends while he was away. He’d agreed that they needed some extra help and Jack had informed him that they had hired a nanny. But he didn’t know much about her. From the brief texts, he gathered that she was young, really nice, great at her job, and the boys adored her. Jack had said that he knew right away that she would fit in with them. Well, Jack had always been a good judge of character, so Race believed him. But that’s all he knew. So why was his heart pounding at the thought of finally meeting her?

He was about to turn around and walk into his room, opting to delay the official meeting until he had something worthwhile to say, when the door across from his opened.

POV Change

For the life of me, I couldn’t get that damned song out of my head. It’s a good thing it was catchy. No one wants to start their day with a tear-jerker clouding their every thought. Regardless, it felt like it was going to be a good day. The sun was rising, casting everything in its golden glow, I was looking particularly good this morning, and I had the day all planned out. And it wasn’t just me feeling this way. It’s been almost a week since the breakthrough with Rider. Since then, he seems more… I don’t know- carefree? Unburdened? He doesn’t shy away as much. Quite the opposite. He helps out more around the house and plays with the younger boys. It’s like he’s a totally different person. So with the resident gloominess uplifted, and having the boys on a stable schedule, things have been running pretty smoothly. I may not be Mary Poppins, and this may not be a spoonful-of-sugar scenario for any of us, but things were definitely looking up. I was finally in a comfortable routine that I’d grown accustomed to. Nothing could change that.

…Or so I thought.

I finished getting ready for the day, about to wake the boys, when I turned around and came face to face with someone I’d only seen in pictures. We both stood there, frozen, in the hallway, staring at each other. It was almost as if we thought if we didn’t move, the other couldn’t see us. Well, I guess if we were both pretending, this would be a good opportunity to take him all in.

His hair was a little longer than it was in the pictures; blond, wispy stands of hair curling around his face. His skin looked soft, tan from being outdoors all the time, no doubt. He dressed simply: jeans, button-up shirt, and sneakers. He wore a shocked expression. In all the photos I’ve seen, he either had a giant grin or a mischievous smirk. I found myself longing to see them instead. And his eyes…

“Wow, they’re even bluer in person.”

He blinked out of his reverie.

“What?”

I realized I had said that out loud. “Nothing. Hi, Race!”

He blinked again. “Do we know each other?”

My sudden smile faded. I had come on too strong. I already blew it. “Oh, uh, no we don’t. But I’m embarrassed to admit that I know all about you. Your friends have some pretty extraordinary stories to tell. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” I stuck my hand out. He shook it, finally seeming like he was warming up to the crazy lady that stood in front of him.

“Race. But you knew that.”

I chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, I tend to come off as frazzled and ditzy when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“Well…it-it’s you! You’re kind of a legend around here. It’s hard not to be.”

He gave me a half smirk, half genuine smile. “Well, thanks but-“

My phone beeped, making me jump. I looked down. “Sorry! I have to get the boys up and ready for the day. Oh, jeez, they’re already so difficult to get around, it’s gonna be twice as hard, once they see you’re back.” I paused, eyes wide. “Not that that’s your fault! They’ll be thrilled to see you! I just meant-“

“It’s okay, I get it. Go do your thing, you never saw me.” He winked and quickly disappeared into his room. I stood there, dumbfounded. What just happened?

I turned around to see both of the boys’ doors cracked open, a dozen pairs of eyes peeking through.

“You all saw that.” The doors opened more and the boys revealed themselves, some of them nodding.

“If none of you make fun of the huge fool I made of myself just now, I’ll see to it that you all get extra dessert this week.” They all laughed. “Now, I know you all want to talk to Race, but we are on a schedule. Think of it this way: the faster you get ready, the more time you’ll have with him before you go to school.” With that, everyone rushed inside to get dressed. I glanced back at the door Race fled behind and considered knocking so we could start over. But I knew that I’d just embarrass myself again so I left it alone.

Downstairs, the other guys greeted me like normal. It seemed as if they didn’t know about Race’s return. I was about to ask them when the boys came rumbling down the stairs, taking their seats at the table. They all seemed excited, but said nothing. I was very confused when Rider discreetly held a finger to his lips, signaling that I shouldn’t say anything.

Albert came in with the trays of food as normal and everyone started filling their plates. I sat there, bewildered.

“You not hungry, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, uh, not really. But thanks, Al.” He gave me a suspicious look before dropping a few pieces of fruit on a plate and handing it to me. “At least try to eat something. You know how I get when people don’t eat.” I gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. I looked around. Some of the younger boys were trying to hold back their giggles and I noticed that there was an extra chair at the table that the guys hadn’t noticed. What’s going on?

Everyone was so engaged in conversation that we didn’t notice the kitchen door opening. Race plopped himself down into the extra chair, nonchalantly chewing on a piece of bacon.

“What’s up, guys?”

I looked over at the three men that had just been discussing the plans for the day. They all froze, food halfway to their mouths. All of the boys burst out laughing.

“Race!” They jumped out of their seats. Race had just enough time to stand up before Albert tackled him into a hug, making him let out a soft, “Oof!” Jack came over and clapped him on the back. “Hey, buddy! You’re a day early!” Davey and Albert look over to him.

“Wait, you knew he was coming?”

“Yeah, he called me last week.” Albert punched him in the shoulder. From the looks of it, he was not gentle.

“You asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Jack said, rubbing his shoulder. “But it looks like he wanted to surprise all of us. Oh! By the way,” he led Race over to me, “This is (Y/N). The woman I was telling you about.”

Race smirked. “We meet again.”

Jack looked confused. “Again?”

“Yeah, she complimented me on my eyes and then got all flustered about it. It was adorable, really.” I felt my face burn up. So he had heard me.

“And when you went downstairs,” Peter said, “He got us all together and planned his big reveal! It was so funny!” Race looked a little surprised.

“Woah, is Peter actually talking in front of everybody?”

“Yeah, once (Y/N), here, took over, we’ve seen big changes in everyone. This little guy is such a social butterfly now.” I blushed and Peter beamed with pride.

“I can’t take all the credit. The boys have been doing their part to adjust to the changes around here and I’m really grateful for that.”

Race smiled at me. “I’m glad.” When his eyes didn’t leave mine for quite some time I cleared my throat.

“Um, we should all finish breakfast so I can get these boys to school.” They all agreed and we sat back down.

It had taken a lot of coaxing and promising that Race would still be here when they got back to get the boys out the door and on the buses. Once they had all left I slowly made my way back, steadying myself. It seemed that I couldn’t control my nerves around Race and that had to change now that he was back. I walked inside and found the room to be empty. I could hear laughter coming from the office and figured they were all in there, catching up, so I thought it best not to disturb them. I went about my daily routine, as normal, even though everything was far from it.

A couple hours later I found myself sneaking up to the roof. I’d made it a habit to come up here to relax. There was something freeing about being so high up and looking down at New York below. Of course ours wasn’t the tallest building in the city, far from it. But I still felt like I was on top of the world. I closed my eyes and took in deep breaths, calming myself. And it would’ve worked had I not heard someone clear their throat behind me, making me jump out of my skin. I turned around and saw Race leaning on the doorframe.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. But I figured I’d better announce my presence before walking up behind you. We’re pretty high up and I can’t have another tragic death on my hands.” My eyes widened and he laughed. “I’m joking. Can I join you?”

“Of course. This was your turf first, after all. I’m merely a visitor.”

He walked over to the wall, next to where I was standing, and rested his arms on the ledge.

“Do you really think of yourself that way?”

I blinked a couple times. “Sometimes. It’s hard not to feel small when you hear all of these amazing stories about someone. Are they true?

“You said you knew all about me.”

“Just what your friends have to say. And I get the feeling that they like to… embellish the stories they tell. So? Who is the real Race Higgins? I wanna know straight from the man, himself.”

Race shuffled his feet a bit and made a point to not look me in the eye, it seemed. He fiddled with his hands, playing with a bracelet on his left wrist. I noticed it matched the one Albert wore.

“I know a person ain’t their background. I know your past doesn’t have to define you. But I feel like that’s the place I have to start if I wanna tell you my story.” I nodded and waited for him to continue. “I grew up not far from here, couple blocks over, in fact. Wasn’t a great neighborhood, but it was home. Skipping over the gory details, I’ll just say that my birth parents were into some shady stuff. And one night it came back to bite them in the ass in the form of two bullets.” I let out a small gasp but he continued. “I never knew who did it and as I got older I realized it’s best I don’t know. But that night I was so scared I just ran. I ran and ran. And a year later I was still runnin’. From the people who killed my parents, from any and all dangers that lurk in the New York shadows, ready to jump out and do even more harm to an unsuspecting eight year old boy… from going down the same path my parents chose. And I refused to stop.” He took a deep breath.

“That was, until I finally dared to wander back toward my old home. I found this place. It looked so big and warm and inviting. I saw a bunch of young boys coming and going. I eventually found out what it was and I took a chance. The rest is history. As the years went on, we got more and more boys coming in, and today I call them my best friends. We’ve all got sordid backstories- Al and I even have an inside joke where we say I’m like Batman because of what happened with my parents- but I think that brought us all closer. And now we’re all back here.“

I stood there, taking it all in. I hadn’t expected that.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if I had experienced half of the horrors that you faced and finally got away from it… I don’t think I’d be able to go back to the birthplace of my nightmares. I mean, you finally have a family and new, happier memories. I guess I just don’t understand.”

He smiled, knowingly. “You know when you go away for a while – for school or somethin’ – and you have a good time. You love it there and you appreciate the people you’ve met and the life you’ve built. But… but you don’t really feel like you’re home until you go back home. Ya know what I mean?”

I blushed and nodded silently. He continued.

“And anyway, this ain’t the birthplace of my nightmares. No, that would be the streets of Manhattan: my home before this place. This rundown old gal may not seem like much, but compared to the cold, unforgiving alleyways I was used to, this is paradise. And I’ve made it my mission to not let any other kid go through what I went through. This is our safe haven.”

I smiled a little, remembering when Jack described the home as paradise as well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate-“

He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. From what I heard, you wouldn’t insult Adolf Hitler, himself, if he was standin’ right in front of ya.”

I furrowed my brow. “Well, thanks, but I’m not that innocent. I got a tough way about me. I have to, keeping track of fifteen boys with mouths like sailors and attitudes like kings.”

Race chuckled at that. “Yeah, they’re alright. Me and my boys raised a lot more hell when we were in their positions.”

I watched a group of birds fly overhead and sighed contently. “I’ve heard some of the stories, shorthand. I guess you guys really do have a special bond, with each other and with this building. Albert said it might be fate that you’re all back here. Do you believe in fate?”

He paused for a moment, staring out over the city. “Ask me again after something remarkable happens.” I stared at him, confused. He continued. “It usually takes something grand or divine to make people believe in that kinda stuff. What we’re doin’ is not remarkable. It’s just the right thing to do. Fate didn’t bring us all back here. Our compassion and empathy for those who are living the lives we once had brought us together again.”

I stared at him a little longer before turning back to the view in front of us, letting out a surprised chuckle.

“You know, ever since I got here people have been telling me all about you. The boys adore you and your friends hold you in such high regard. I guess I’ve built up this version of you in my head. It was almost like some saint or superhero; someone who could do no wrong and expect nothing in return. And I kept telling myself to quit it because there was no way that you would compare to this fictitious version of yourself. I was afraid I was gonna be let down with such high expectations. But now…” I glanced over at him and met his eye. “Now I’m starting to think you really are that person.”

He scoffed. “Psh! I’m clearly no saint. And, I mean, I haven’t tested it out or anything, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have super powers. I’m just a guy trying to pay the universe back for finally giving me a good life.”

“Modesty. That seems to be the theme around here. A girl can’t pay someone a compliment without them immediately deflecting it. And frankly, it’s getting kind of annoying. So here I am, standing in front of you, telling you that you are an amazing person, a great role model to those boys… and someone who doesn’t owe the universe shit because you’ve paid your dues. Now take the compliment with no backtalk.”

Race blinked a couple times before a wide smile spread across his face. “Okay, I take it back, maybe you would insult Hitler,” he laughed. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “But seriously, if that’s how you handle situations, you must be doin’ great with the boys.”

My smile faltered. “I don’t know… I mean, we’ve all gotten into a rhythm and routine around here. And some of them really seem to be comfortable with me…”

“But?”

“But I honestly don’t think I’m doing that great. I could never match up to you. And I know that we aren’t interchangeable. Jack’s made sure to drill that into everyone’s heads, including my own. It’s just- how do I put this? It’s like when they take an actor who plays a certain character, and replace them with someone else for the sequel. It doesn’t matter how great of an actor the new person is, everyone hates them because they aren’t the original person. And you are so loved and well-known, it would be like replacing Robert Downey Jr. with some no-name, thinking no one would notice. It just doesn’t work and it makes everyone confused and angry.” I looked over at him. His eyebrows were raised and he looked very amused.

“Are you saying I’m like Robert Downey Jr.?”

“It was a metaphor.”

“Either way, I’ll take it.” I sighed and rubbed my face in annoyance. When he spoke again, his voice was more gentle. “You know they listen to you sing every mornin’?”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Yeah, every morning they wake up extra early to listen to you sing while you get ready. They say it’s like havin’ a mother. And I’m no expert, but I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m not a mother. I just play one on TV.” He smirked at me.

“Wait, so you’re Robert Downey Jr. and you play a mother?”

“Hey, he could play anything he sets his mind to.” We both laughed. “Anyway, don’t tell the boys I told you. They were pretty embarrassed.”

I mimed zipping my lips and throwing the imaginary key over the ledge. We shared a smile. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious around Race, but he also had this way about him that was so reassuring. Maybe we could do this. Together.

Tag list:

@bencookisagod

@technically-whizzy

@werkwerkelizaaa

#newsies #race higgins #race higgins x reader #mine #look! I wrote something!#bye bye sugar blue eyes

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nerdsies · 5 years

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Goodbye From the Refuge

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thefactsofthematter · 4 years

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Oooo can you do some Ralbert or Sprace angst?

sprace angst you shall get.... while davey was bothering jack in the theatre, brooklyn was joining the strike

sprace; 2kish; canon era; no warnings

It feels strange, walking through Manhattan.

Spot doesn't come here often. He mostly sticks to his own territory, occasionally sending a kid over if there's a message he needs to relay. It's rare that he himself ever actually crosses the bridge.

He's here on a mission, walking as fast as he can down crowded sidewalks and trying to go unnoticed. He's not sure what he's so scared of— sure, he's not supposed to be here, he's got his own turf. But who on earth is gonna tell him to leave? Not even Jack Kelly would have the balls to kick Spot out of his borough.

Speaking of Jack... an apology is owed and Spot is here to deliver it. Brooklyn should have come to this morning's strike— he was being stupid and overthinking it when he decided to pull back and not go. They should have had Manhattan's back, and Spot, at the very least, has the sense to apologize for it.

From what he’s heard so far, tons of kids got hurt and at least one was even arrested— and Spot’s heard some downright horrible things about the place Manhattan kids go when that happens. There’s a jail for kids in Brooklyn, sure, but it’s not nearly as bad as the horror stories he’s heard from this side of the river. He feels like absolute shit, because all this surely could’ve been prevented if he and the other boroughs had jumped in to help.

Additionally, it's not only Jack he needs to apologize to— there's someone else he needs to find. Race is definitely beyond angry. It's understandable, of course, but it stings nonetheless. Race is one of the only people in the world whose opinion Spot gives a shit about, and it sucks being on his bad side.

It’s been almost half a year since they said "I love you" for the first time. They'd sworn they'd always watch out for each other. Spot is quite sure he's fucked that up royally, and as much as he's really hoping he's not about to get broken up with, he certainly wouldn't blame Race if he dumped him.

It's getting late— between getting word of what happened and then hiking all the way over here, it's staring to get dark out. When he finally arrives, he has to gather himself for a moment before knocking— he's oddly nervous.

He doesn't recognize the kid who answers. Actually... wait, maybe he does. Race has talked about him before— tall and ginger with an uneven spattering of freckles, always wears his hat backwards— this has to be Albert.

He's never quite felt so judged as when Albert looks him up and down, with a curl to his upper lip like he's trying and failing not to give a dirty look.

"You from Brooklyn?" he finally asks, his voice dripping with annoyance. "You're a little late, the strike was this morning."

Spot swallows thickly and struggles to figure out exactly how to respond to that.

"I know," he states, trying to at least maintain his usual air of confidence. "Is Jack here? I need to talk to him... about that."

Albert stares at Spot with that same glare for a moment. There's a reason he must have been left in charge of the door— he's oddly intimidating, able to make you feel like you're two feet tall with just a judgemental look.

"No."

Spot sort of expects him to elaborate, but all he's left with is that cold, unnerving stare.

"Okay, well, where is he? Or— fuck it, is Racetrack here? I need to talk to him too."

Albert quirks an eyebrow.

"You're Spot Conlon," he states, like he's just realizing it, but also like he's not remotely impressed. "I'm not sure Race is too keen to see you right now. He's not happy with you."

Spot groans. He knew Race would be pissed, but now that he's hearing it for real, it hurts even more.

"Yeah, I know," he sighs. "That's why I walked my ass all the way to Manhattan to apologize— if he'll see me, that is."

Albert quirks an eyebrow, the most expression he's showed in this whole conversation.

"Apologize?" he asks, almost like it's funny to him. "By all means, go ahead and try. I wanna see this go down." He turns around and shouts into the building. "Ay, Racer! Someone's at the door for you!"

There's a bit of a commotion inside, a few kids asking if it's a lady friend or something, and Albert eventually turns back around to face Spot.

"Good luck," he chuckles, before pushing the door the rest of the way open and walking away.

There's Race, approaching the door with a curious kind of look on his face, though it falls into completely and totally pissed the fuck off as soon as he lays eyes on Spot.

"You... What are you doing here!?" he practically growls, before suddenly charging forwards at full speed. "You no-good, lying, cowardly piece of shit! I'll kill you!"

Before Spot can even try to react, Race decks him in the face with a surprising amount of force— his lanky arms can pack a ridiculously good punch.

So... not quite the reaction Spot was hoping for.

"Jesus, what the hell!?" He clutches his cheek, not sure what to do next— Race is probably the only person in the world who could punch him and not get pummelled into the ground for it. "Would you at least hear me out first?"

Race is clearly fuming, and he just swings his arm back and punches Spot again. In an attempt to at least defend himself, Spot tries to grab Race's arms and hold him still, but it escalates into wrestling each other to the ground, while Race tries to go in for another hit.

"You have some goddamn nerve showing up here!" snaps Race, who currently has the upper hand simply because although Spot is stronger, he's also terrified to hurt him. Race throws another punch and Spot just barely dodges it. "You think you can show your face in Manhattan after the shit you pulled today!? What the hell was goin' through your thick head!?"

Spot manages to catch one of Race's fists and hold it still, breathless from the adrenaline rush of whatever the hell is going on here.

"I'm sorry, Race," he pants. "If you'd just listen, we could—"

"Sorry doesn't mean shit, you asshole!" Race screams, using his free hand to hit Spot again, though this one has a little less force behind it. "Sorry don't fix none of what happened today, and it's all because you're a selfish, rotten bastard!"

"I'm selfish!?" yells Spot. He's making a genuine effort not to lose his temper, but it's tricky when he's quite literally being attacked. "What!? I was thinkin' about all the kids that coulda been hurt! I'm not the one that rushed into a fight I couldn't handle!"

"Oh, I'll show you a fight I can handle!" roars Race, before someone finally comes running from inside to grab him by the waist and pull him off of Spot. "Hey! What the fuck!? Let me at him!"

He's pulled back by two other newsies, kicking and struggling all the while, and Spot manages to push himself to his feet. His face is throbbing and he can taste blood in his mouth— Race is a surprisingly good fighter. In any other instance he'd be rather proud.

There's a crowd of kids in the doorway, watching in either total shock or dying with laughter. Spot Conlon very rarely feels embarrassed, but the dozens of pairs of eyes on him are unnerving to say the least.

"Stop it, Race," grumbles one of the guys who'd hauled him to his feet, some kid with glasses that Spot sort of recognizes. "Jesus— ain't us newsies supposed to be a family?"

"Oh please," snaps Race, with a bitter laugh. "He has a family, they're in Brooklyn and they're too high and mighty to come help us out! We ain't good enough for 'em."

Spot spits blood onto the pavement and widens his stance a little, trying to stay in control. He knows he looks intimidating when the glasses guy gulps and his eyes widen a little.

"You know that ain't true," says Spot, hoping the power of a calm, but loud voice will make it look like he's not freaking out. He takes a step closer to Race, who's stopped kicking and screaming but still looks enraged. Spot takes a deep breath. "Ain't nothin' what makes one borough better than another, and we oughta have each other's backs. I fucked up. I shoulda sent some fellas to join the strike today, and I shoulda been here myself. I'm sorry. I’m man enough to say it, I did the wrong thing."

Race's angry expression twitches. He's clenching his jaw and staring Spot down with fire in his eyes, but his gaze has softened just a little. Everyone else has gone silent— you could hear a pin drop.

If they don't fix things between their boroughs right now, there's almost no hope of another strike attempt. If Race accepts Spot's apology, it certainly doesn't mean things are okay between them personally, but at least the newsies won't be going to war around them.

"You should be," Race finally says, and he jerks his arms to make the fellas on either side of him let go. They comply, and Spot realizes that Race must be in charge in Jack's absence— wherever he is— because everyone seems to just be waiting for his next move. He looks around at the boys behind him and then sighs, spits in his hand, and extends it toward Spot. "Manhattan accepts your apology, if you swear you'll be behind us next time. This ain't over."

A blanket of relief washes over Spot as he returns the handshake, and there's an awkward, quiet round of applause from a few of the boys. Before letting go, he steps a little closer to Race, narrowing the space between them.

"Can we talk? ...Alone?"

Race hesitates, stares at Spot for a moment, and then shakes his head, taking an exasperated deep breath. He drops their hands.

"No. Go home, Spot."

Spot opens his mouth, but then closes it and pauses. He can't just walk away from here, knowing they're not on good terms. What if Race decides never to come sell in Brooklyn again?

"Racer..." he whispers, his eyes darting around the dozen or so newsies still watching them. "Please. Come on."

Race's cold expression cracks for just a moment, almost in pity, but he collects himself quickly.

"I'm busy," he simply says. "I got lots of kids hurt from today what need helpin'. I ain't wasting my time with you."

Spot feels his heart break a little at the implication that he's a waste of time, but he just nods and rubs a hand over his face to hide the tears that have sprung to his eyes.

"Yeah. Okay. That... that makes sense." He slowly starts to walk away as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. "Maybe another time. Um... I'll see you at Sheepshead tomorrow?"

Race sighs.

"No." He offers a tight smile, like he's trying to at least keep things friendly. "I think I’ll be stickin’ to my own borough for a while.”

Spot feels absolutely crushed, but he has to keep it together, so he at least tries to smile back. This can’t be happening. Loving Race is the only thing he’s truly certain about— this can’t be the end of them.

“Okay… I get it. I’ll, um, I’ll be around, y’know? If you ever feel like… coming by. If you want.”

Spot can’t quite convince himself to walk away, so Race eventually just huffs and shoots a stern look to any of the other newsies that haven’t already gone back inside. Once the door closes behind the last of them, he takes a little step closer to Spot.

“Don’t make this harder than he needs to be.” His voice is incredibly soft and Spot is so desperate for his affection that it hurts a little. “Just leave. I’ll see you eventually, but not today, and not anytime soon. Go home.”

There’s nothing Spot can do but nod and start to walk away. This is exactly what he’d been scared of on his way here.

“I love you,” he offers, one last attempt at begging for forgiveness.

Race freezes. His face falls, and he seems to internally debate whether or not he’s going to say it back for what feels like forever. Ultimately, he just turns around and walks back inside without a word.

If anyone asks, Spot won’t admit it, but he cries for the whole walk home.

#you thought you were getting a happy ending? NO SIR #but ofc they eventually resolve things probably right before spot comes in at the rally #newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #my writing #sprace

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sparkle-heart-anon · 5 years

Text

Secret Love : Crutchie Morris x Reader

Warnings: sex mentions, slut shaming, calling people a bitch and cripple, and the Delanceys being dicks

Word count : 3k

So I had this idea during swim practice today sorry if it’s shitty

The not so subtle glances, the meeting of eyes for a moment then looking back down blush spreading to the faces, the nervous ticks saved only for each other. This continued for far too long between you and the impossibly adorable Crutchie Morris, until finally, one day, exactly two years, four months, and three days ago, you and Crutchie were hanging out, walking back to the Lodge House from a long day of selling. You were both talking about stupid things, the crappiness of the headline that day, you were pretty sure, both trying to repress the obvious feelings you had for each other, when the topic changed. You were close to the Lodge House, it sat at the end of the street.

“So, uh, (Y/N),” his voice was shaking.

“Yeah?” you hummed your voice sweet and kind and only made Crutchie more nervous.

“I, uh, I was wondering,” his accent was thick. It always got thicker when he was nervous. “Do you maybe wanna go out on a date with me? And uh, youse can totally say no if ya wanna but I uh just wanted ta…”

You cut him off. “I would love to.”

That day he smiled so wide, and so brightly. But then, because you were both worried about the other newsies finding out (it was more you really) you agreed to date in private until you both felt ready to tell the others.

Your first date was amazing you were complete struck in love. He was so kind and such a gentleman taking you down to a little restaurant which you insisted was far too much. You walked back to the Lodge House discreetly holding hands.

The next date you went on, he kissed you. It was your first kiss. It was his third. But still, it was awkward. Neither of you was quite sure when to put your hands or how to tilt your head. But still, it was perfect basking in its imperfectness. You still hid this from the others, worried that they might judge you for dating someone.

You and Crutchie took it slow together. You weren’t affectionate in public ever, the closest thing being shy, secret kisses when Crutchie pulled you into an alleyway after being sure that no one else was around.

Six months on the dot into your relationship, on a romantic date in Central Park, Crutchie told you he loved you. He also told you that he wanted everyone to know that he loved you, or at the very least, he was ready for everyone to know. You loved him back. You loved him so deeply and passionately that when you looked at him, your heart swelled so large you sometimes thought it might break. But no matter how much you loved him, you still didn’t really want the others to know. He understood. He was kind. You were worried that the others would tease you for dating someone, or turn on you, pick sides. You were mostly worried about the Delancy’s. They always hit in you, made some shitty sly comments that you tried to brush off. You didn’t want Crutchie to have to endure this either.

Then, after a year, six months, and eight days since Crutchie first asked you out, you two had sex for the first time. You were kissing passionately in an alleyway a few streets away from the Lodge House, getting friskier as your hands roamed his chest and back, and his free hand held you tighter by the small of your back. You snuck back into Crutchie’s room at the very top of the Lodge House without being noticed, and made your way over to his bed. He checked with you a million times that night, making sure you wanted it, making sure you were okay with everything he was going to do. Again, that night was so perfect in its imperfectness. He was worried about you seeing his bum leg for the first time, you were worried about him seeing your body for the first time. But it was all so sweet and so perfect.

He held you afterwards. Held you tight in his arms, professing his love over and over again, you repeating the same feelings. There you laid, facing each other, under the thin blankets, as the moon streamed into Crutchie’s shoebox of a room, and you held hands, noses almost touching.

“I love you so much, Crutchie,” you whispered, kissing him sweetly.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said, slinging his hand over your bare waist and pulling you closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, it got quiet for a moment as you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Can we, uh, we not tell anyone about this.”

“Yeah.” He understood why this had to remain unspoken. Rules were different for girls, he knew that. Relationships were scandalous enough, but to have sex before you were married, women could have been banished and socially destroyed. So those moments, laying together as he traced patterns into your skin and you whispered sweet nothings into his ear, became sacred secrets held between the two of you, and you wanted it to remain that way. But of course, life could never be that easy.

Every time you snuck up to his room, sometimes to talk and cuddle innocently, other times to do something much less innocent, but you would always made sure to sneak back down to your room by 2 am. No one would hear you, no one would see you, and no one would know. Except for the first time you screwed up. You and Crutchie had had a rough night, and you were both exhausted and wanted to cuddle. You rested your head on his chest as he held you close. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head. Slowly, you both drifted off, not bothering to put back in your clothes, not bothering to put away the things you were using.

The next morning you awoke to the bell and the pounding of Newsie feet around the Lodge House. But more frighteningly, you heard someone knocking on the door. “Hey, Crutch, you ready?” You bolted up straight, his eyes widened.

“Hide,” he mouthed. You nodded, and dove under the bed, pulling down a sheet to wrap yourself in.

“Yeah, uh, one sec…” he said nervously, grabbing his crutch and putting on his boxers.

“C’mon Crutch,” Jack said opening the door, “we gotta get ready to go. . . Woah.” You hid underneath the bed, looking out towards the scene through a small gap between the blanket that had been draped over the side and the wall. “Looks like somebody had some fun last night.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “So who’s the lucky gal?” You couldn’t see Crutchie’s face, only his bare legs and his crutch, but you knew that it was bright red.

“I, uh, I don’t know what youse talking about Jack,” he lied, and bad

Jack’s smirk grew wider. “You’ve got dirty clothes strewn across the room, youse only in your boxers, and uh, over there,” he pointed to the corner, “is a pile of a goirl’s clothes, so I do assume that you had a special lady here last night.”

“What, uh, well. . .” he began to stammer, drumming his nails on his wooden crutch. You smirked, running your fingers on the marks that Crutchie made on your back from his nails last night.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Jack teased. “But you hafta get ready to sell some papes.”

Jack walked out of the room and shut the door. You waited one heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats, before you got out from under the bed, and turned to Crutchie who looked very embarrassed and ashamed even.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry, I guess we fell asleep and Jack barely even knocks I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, placing your hand on him. “Don’t be. He didn’t see me, we’re good. We just need to be more careful next time.” You gave him a brief kiss. “We should go get ready or else we’s gonna be late.”

You both got changed, and left after the flurry of Newsies had already gone to line up. When the Delancey brothers so rudely commented that “the bitch” was late, and pressed as to why. While the boys that over heard nearly rioted at the nickname they had unceremoniously given you, they wanted to know why you were late. You were never late.

“Uhhhhhh,” you paused and thought for a moment, making eye contact with Crutchie. “I had some lady problems.” You hoped that this would get them to stop asking questions, and once their faces turned bright red, and Crutchie was laughing with a smirk that covered his face, they did.

You grabbed your papes for the day, and was thankful that Jack didn’t find out about you and Crutchie.

The next incident happened two years and three days after Crutchie had asked you out for the first time. This time, you were just cuddling, your hands intertwined, your lips mashed together. You were laughing quietly about stupid little jokes you had, he was adorning your face with kisses. You reciprocated them, peppering kisses along his face and neck, and chest. The night was giggly and happy, curled up together. But then, at 12:37, someone opened the door. While your back was to the door, and you were wearing Crutchie’s clothes, your hair was unmistakable. And, well, it didn’t help when you turned to look at the door, frozen like a deer in headlights.

Davey stood there, his eyes wide. “Crutch, I was coming to get yeah top let you know that Jack is completely shit faced, but, uh, I can see that you’re, uh, busy, so I will leave.”

Davey closed the door, but instantly you jumped up to talk to him. The hallway was empty, thank goodness. “You can’t tell anyone about this please, Davey,” you whispered. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Okay. But uh, why not? Crutchie’s a great guy.”

“I know. I love him a lot, but. . . I’m just worried about everyone else, hating me for dating him, the Delancey’s being jerks and stuff, ya know, the like.”

Davey nodded. “I don’t think the other newsies would hate ya for dating him. I can’t argue with the Delancey stuff, though.” You nodded silently, toying with with the edge of your, well, Crutchie’s shirt.

“I just still worry.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“A little over two years.”

“Two years!” he exclaimed loudly. You shushed him and he lowered his voice. “You’ve been dating for two years. Who knows?”

“Me, Crutchie,” you paused, “and you.”

“That’s it?” he whisper-screamed.

“Yeah. . .”

“I wanna know all about it, but I think you have yourself a man to get back to.” You blushed.

“You promise not to tell anyone?”

“I promise. But, (Y/N), the guys won’t hate you or nothing of you tell them you’re dating Crutch.”

“Thanks, Davey.” You gave him a small smile, and went back into Crutchie’s room. He sat on the bed, wringing his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), is he gonna tell anyone?”

“No, Davey’s good. He said he won’t.” He smiled and kissed you sweetly, pulling you close into his lap.

Then, there was the final time. Two years, four months, and three days after Crutchie had asked you out, it was the final night before you were discovered. Clothes were strewn across the room, moonlight basked your bodies. It was all so sweet and gentle as you tried to get as close to each other as possible, to express your love. That night you curled together, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he traced little designs into your hip.

“I love you, darling,” he whispered. It sounded like he wanted to say something more, but you just sat there, so content just to be with the other. Then, you drifted off to sleep in his arms. He was going to wake you, he really was, but you just looked so peaceful. Your hair tickled his shoulder, your skin was soft, you looked so perfect asleep there in his arms. He wished so desperately that he could do this every night without you worrying that people would find out and judge you for “having extramarital relations with a man” or whatever.

He drifted off to sleep a bit later, not really meaning to, but at the same time, he didn’t really fight it off. When you woke up it was to the sound of a loud gasp, and someone yelling “Crutchie? (Y/N)?” You bolted up and saw that Jack and Romeo were standing in the doorway. Then you realized that you weren’t wearing a shirt and that the white sheet that covered you had fallen to your waist. Instantly, you moved towards covering yourself, and waking up Crutchie. Romeo had fled from the doorway, but Jack turned around but stood there, clearly in shock.

“Go get decent y’all, I have questions.” Your face was bright red as you leapt out of bed after the door was closed. You threw on the same dress you were wearing yesterday, and got ready. Crutchie hobbled over to get ready, and you helped him, trying to go faster to do damage control. It took you 4 minutes to both get ready, which was record time.

You then threw open the door, and instantly pleaded Jack to not let everyone know. He agreed, and started asking questions when Race raced up the stairs, his feet pounding on every step. “(Y/N), you and Crutchie?” You didn’t realize it was possible for your face to get redder, but it did.

“How did you—“ then you remembered. Romeo. He had probably gone and told everyone. So you did the thing that you felt most reasonable. You raced down the stairs, outside into the cobblestone streets, sobbing. Your feet pounded against the pavement over and over again, but despite all the city noise, the only sound you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

You finally stopped at an alleyway, sinking down and burying your face into your skirt, sobbing. Then, because you’re day hadn’t been shitty enough, you hear the familiar voices of the Delancey brothers.

“My, my, my, now Oscar what do we have here?” You looked up and were struck with fear.

“Leave me alone, please.”

“I think we have ourselves the papah bitch. . . Well, actually Morris, did ya hear? Our paper bitch really is more of a paper slut.” You cringed, knowing what you had predicted had happened. You stood up and went to walk away, but Oscar grabbed your hand.

“Do you think the paper slut has enough to go around.”

“Leave me alone,” you said more forcefully, but your voice cracked, making them laugh in your “pathetic face”.

Then you heard Crutchie yell, “Hey Morris, Oscar! Leave her alone.”

“Oh look Oscar,” Morris said laughing. “We’ve got the cripple defending the slut. How wonderful.”

“Shut up and leave him alone.”

They laughed, but when Oscar turned his face to look at Crutchie, your fist collided with his cheek. He was pissed off and wanted to retaliate, but when Jack threatened him, the boys left, and Crutchie rushed over to you.

He kissed you first, but he noticed you were upset, shaking with tears. “(Y/N), I know it sucks that they found out like that, but at least now we can be with each other in public.”

You shook your head. “(Y/N), what’s wrong? Do you not want to be with me? Why don’t you want to people to know?”

“No, Crutchie I love you. I love you so much, and I want to be with you.”

“Then why don’t you want people to know?” He was more upset this time, nervously tapping his nails against his crutch.

“B-b-because of what they might think.”

“Because you don’t want to be known as the girl who slept with a cripple?” His voice was sharp but he was going to cry.

“No! Because I love you so damn much, but you’re too good for me, and you’re gonna realize that and leave me and then I’ll be stuck for the rest of my life alone because I placed everything on you and you’re gonna leave!” You were crying now.

“What?” he asked, his voice softer. He touched your elbow. “You think I’m gonna leave you?”

“Yeah. You’re so much better than me in every way. And one day you’re gonna wake up and see that.”

“(Y/N), I love you. I love you more than anything and you’re all I want.”

“No I’m not. . .”

He reached in his pocket and grabbed out a small, plain black box. “Yes, you are. . .” He opened the box, revealing a small silver band sitting in the center. “I know it ain’t much, but I love you (Y/N), you’re the only one I ever want. . . Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You cried, smiling widely. You didn’t even realize the crowd of Newsies that had begun to gather. You could only focus on him. “A thousand million times yes.” He places the ring on your finger, and kissed you in front of everyone.

But before he did, he asked, “Are you okay with me kissing you in front of everyone?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” your voice was so happy. He kissed you, pulling you in tightly, so proud that he could finally show you off as his.

“No more secrets anymore, right? I now get to show you off to everyone and anyone I want to?”

“Right,” you laughed. Instantly, he turned to face the Newsies.

“Look at my wonderful fiancée!” he smiled, before turning back and kissing you once more, holding you as tight as he could, never wanting to let you go.

#crutchie #crutchie morris #crutchie morris x reader #newsies #newsies x reader

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must-be-brooklyn · 5 years

Note

javid first kiss?

I got you!! Modern AU bc they’re fun — I hope it’s okay, but I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you were envisioning!

Ship: Javid

Words: 1.3k

Era: Modern, university AU

The duvet on Jack’s bed was remarkably warm. If David could have had his way, he would very happily have stayed there for the rest of the term, comfortably wrapped up in blankets, Jack’s arms and oversized hoodies. There was a mug of tea cradled in his hands and an old Disney film playing on Jack’s battered laptop. It was about as close to heaven as it came during the weeks when the cold began to set in for winter.

The credits were rolling, though, and David knew that if he did not extricate himself now, he would probably never move again.

Next to him, Jack yawned, the pleasant weight on David’s shoulders disappearing as he stretched his arms above his head. Relaxing again, he blinked sleepily and reached forwards to turn off the sound.

“D’ya wanna stay for dinner?” Jack asked. He did not move from his position on the bed, preferring to lean more heavily onto David’s shoulder and pull the blankets up higher. “I have some leftover pasta stuff from last night that could do us both.”

David curled his knees up to his chest as he rubbed his eyes wearily. He then glanced out of Jack’s window, taking in the blurry, grey sky and a distinct lack of sunshine. Even looking at it made him shiver. The last few days had given then more snow than David knew what to do with.

Against his better judgement, David shook his head. “I have to get back.” At Jack’s abashed look, he tried to justify himself. “My Russian prof said that there’d be a quiz on Monday, and I haven’t started studying the latest grammar rules, yet!”

“But it’s only Friday! And, you’re gonna freeze to death if you go back now,” Jack said, nodding towards the window. “It’s snowing.”

David wrinkled his nose and squinted. “Is it?”

Jack sighed. “Time to visit the opticians, I think. When was the last time ya went?”

David rolled his eyes as he began to pull away the covers, layer by layer. The cold immediately started to bite him and it took all the willpower he had not to crumble to Jack’s request and scramble back into the warmth. Sometimes he forgot how badly the student accommodation was heated. They were old rooms and the temperature regulation systems were inefficient at best.

“Stay for dinner, at least,” Jack insisted, clambering to his feet. “You’ze on the other side of campus!”

“I’ll be fine, Jack.” David began circling the small room, picking up his planner, pencil case and study notes – which had been abandoned within less than half an hour of stepping into Jack’s dorm with the initial intention of revising – and dumped them into the backpack that he had bought with him. His jacket hung over the back of a chair.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, perhaps a gesture of displeasure, but also convenient for hiding his hands under his arms where he could retain slightly more heat. “I could keep ya company if ya wanted,” he suggested half-heartedly, “’Cause, I know your roommate is still away.”

David laughed lightly. “You’d only get stuck over there if you came back, too.” He tried desperately not to let his brain read any further into Jack’s proposal. Since meeting during orientation week, they had spent two and a half years in a touchy-feely, back-and-forth arrangement that often left David unsure of where they stood with each other.

At this point, he had come to realise that over thinking things was probably a bad idea. Their friends could make all the jokes they wanted as long as he did not let it adversely impact their relationship.

Shouldering his rucksack, David turned back to Jack. “Thanks for letting me crash this afternoon,” he said, smiling softly. It had been nice. Tea and hot chocolate, movies, cuddles – all the best things with the best possible person David could think of.

Jack shuffled slightly. “Yeah, was good. You still comin’ over to the union for lunch tomorrow?”

“Of course,” David said.

Jack stepped forward, arms extended. The customary goodbye hug. At first, it had been something that had made David vaguely uncomfortable, but years later, he had become accustomed to it. It was just one more part of their song and dance.

David indulged him, falling almost gratefully into the embrace. It was warm and gave him just a few moments to memorise the exact smell of Jack’s aftershave. He began to pull away, regretful, when he suddenly felt himself moving closer in again like a reflexive action he was unable to control.

And then, his lips were on Jacks and they were kissing. David’s brain went blank and all he could process was that Jack’s lips were slightly chapped which was almost a little unpleasant, but his hands were tight on David’s shoulders and he could not have pulled away if he had wanted to.

David gasped and raised his hands to his mouth as they separated. Something in his brain had just broken and he could not find the words of actions that he needed. He still could not make head nor tail of what had just happened. A part of him wanted to scream; years of friendship, all potentially tossed down the drain because he was not able to react appropriately to the situation at hand.

Finally, he looked up and met Jack’s eyes. His cheeks were a bright red and his eyes were locked onto David.

“I’m sorry,” they said breathily at the exact same time.

Jack swallowed. “That was…” He paused and there was a shadow of doubt in his dark eyes. “You’re a really good kisser.”

“Thank you?” David trailed off, voice squeaking embarrassingly high, and knowing that his face was probably an even deeper red than Jack’s. “You are too?” His heart was in his throat and he was only half aware of what he was saying.

Jack finally broke eye contact and looked down at his feet, surprisingly bashful. “I, uh… I shouldn’t’ve done that,” he said slowly. “I just… I dunno. I liked ya for ages and I just… I should’ve stopped. I’m sorry, Davey.”

David’s brain finally began to kick back into action, like his system had finally rebooted after going through a forced shutdown. “Please don’t apologise. I,” he paused again and tried to string together the words he wanted, “You liked me?”

Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Jack nodded. “I mean, still do, to be honest,” he said, “But, I ain’t gonna let this ruin our friendship or nothing.”

“I thought…” David inhaled deeply and started again, voice growing quieter and quieter as he went on. “I like you, too, though. I always thought you’d never, you know, like me back.”

Jack’s mouth opened a little and for a second, both of them were quiet as the processed.

“So, you’d wanna date me, then?” Jack asked, as though he could not believe what he was saying.

David nodded hopelessly, lost for words. He could barely believe what had just happened; it felt like it was a story out of some cliché fairy tale. “I think I’d really like that,” he said.

Jack’s face cracked into a wide grin. “So, d’you wanna stay for that pasta stuff I was talkin’ about, then?”

David pulled his rucksack off and set it back down again, unable to stop the smile growing on his own face. “I think I can manage that.”

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