#and flirted with jacoby which was nice

[noxexistant]

RAAAH ROMEOOO HEADCANONS 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️💨💨💨💥💥💥💥🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

romeo oh romeo mi ángel

thank u so much for asking for him <3 here are some baseline characterisation hcs to get us started

send me newsies writing/headcanon/art requests!!

first and foremost: a sweet kid. we see that he’s social - and, importantly, social in a consistently positive way. he’s always smiling and is always good-natured in the interactions he initiates. even his famous flirting seems to be entirely without the motivation of interest, and he’s totally unperturbed by rejection, and i like to think it’s just an excuse to initiate conversation. it gives him an in, rushing up and telling girls how pretty they are or whatever else - plus he gets to compliment them, which often gets them smiling, and sometimes it gets him a sale. nothing but wins. (except for every time it earns him scoffs and glares and sometimes even a shove as they move past him, but he brushes all that right off.)

he is, also, at least fairly naive. he goes running to the cops during the fight with the strikebreakers, desperate for their help. like he has no idea that the cops aren’t on their side. he’s loud and scared and totally open with his emotion, and he goes down hard when the cop hits him. which begs the question - why doesn’t romeo know, like the rest of the newsies do, that the cops aren’t to be trusted? in my opinion, it implies that romeo has a family, hasn’t been raised on the streets or anything like that, to have to have learned the hard way that cops can’t be trusted. maybe he’s a bit sheltered, at least in comparison to the rest of the newsies. i definitely headcanon him as being close with his mother, who he calls “mama”, and also having some siblings. probably younger, seeing as it sure seems like he hasn’t had the influence of older siblings teaching him certain harsh truths. he considers himself the coolest older brother, helping provide for his family.

relating to both his social habits and perhaps his naïveté (or just blind kindness) - he waves and smiles at morris, unprompted, during sales. it’s one of my favourite background details from the proshot, and we unfortunately don’t get to see morris’ reaction, but we see romeo look up at him on the balcony, smile and wave, and then kind of pout/shrug and give it up, so we can only assume morris probably just glared back or something. romeo doesn’t seem particularly scared or put off though, almost similar to how he reacts when katherine rejects him, and i like to think it’s just sheer determination. particularly with morris, at least that early - before everything that happens during the strike - romeo firmly believes that he could worm his way into even people like the delanceys, just by being persistent and kind, and believes that that’s what’s needed. people are mean because they’re sad, so by being nice, maybe he can make them less sad and make them be nice!

also: romeo isn’t his real name - it’d be a little too perfect if it was, i think - but he absolutely does not understand the joke of the nickname. when katherine mockingly calls him “romeo” to brush him off in jacobi’s, he rushes to jack and asks, “how’d she know my name?” implying he didn’t get katherine’s joke, so he doesn’t get the joke in general either. he’d be so excited if someone explained it to him, though - the other boys gave him his name after this cool, handsome flirt from a play? awesome! so, he and the juliet girl get together in the end, right? …right?

[pepimeinrad]

Urgh, what a night. None of ‘my’ people won their thing! 

Jacoby lost The Chase to a team containing someone who played his duel for 4€, and it was darn close (needed one correct answer with 3 seconds left and didn’t get it). Both Rob Cross and Gary Anderson lost their premier league matches without much of a chance and Gary even has to fear for his ticket to the O2 a little bit.

[iconuk01]

Icon_UK listens to "Masterful"

(Some slight spoilers perhaps)

The Big Finish release to celebrate 50 years of the Master's debut in 1971 is rather fun. Not a classic perhaps, but it did bring together;

Geoffrey Beevers, Mark Gatiss, Derek Jacobi, Alex Macqueen, Milo Parker, Eric Roberts, John Simm, and Michelle Gomez as the various versions of the Master who have appeared in Big Finish, and Jon Culshaw providing some brief Anthony Ainley vocals). I can sort of see why they didn't include Culshaw's Delgado, but it is a bit of a shame not to have him in this story at all.

But you can tell this was written as a chance to let some brilliantly talented actors exchange some deliciously psychopathic banter, with many a nod to classic Doctor Who en route.

When the "Unbound Universe" Master (Who is from a parallel universe and isn't part of the normal Master's timeline, and is played by Mark Gatiss) meets with Missy, they flirt disturbingly and it includes the unforgettable exchange:

Unbound Master - You're not what I expected! Missy - What do you mean? Unbound Master - I mean... you're a beautiful woman, improbably.

(A nice nod to Tom Baker in "City of Death")

Throughout, most of the Master's make it clear that the one thing they CAN agree on is that they loathe Missy, feeling that she's something of an embarassment. Not because of her gender (thankfully), but basically because she's is completely nuts!

Which leads to a climactic moment in the final scene with Sir Derek Jacobi's War Master and Michele Gomez's Missy as the last Master's standing. A plan is revealed...

Missy - The Orobourous Paradox... it would undo EVERY universe! The War Master - You knew? Missy - Yup! The War Master - And you were going to let it happen? Missy - Totally! For funsies! The War Master - You are utterly MAD! Missy - No, I'm just the only one who stopped pretending to be sane.

Which may be the best, most concise description of Missy I've yet heard

[livesincerely]

Take a Shot is, like, adjacent to the tie fic, right? How are those two timelines different & how are they similar?

So, take a shot takes place like, three or four months after tie fic starts and has the same situation where Kath and Davey make Jack get some nicer clothes to wear to work. Except, Jack is completely unaware of the fact that he has feelings for Davey, so they don’t end up getting together as they do in tie fic. (I guess that’s a spoiler? But, we all know that fic has a Javid endgame in the works so whatever)

So imagine that Jack and Davey are doing their domestic morning routine song and dance a la chapter two of tie fic but for months, ON TOP OF all their daily flirting Nonsense™, except that Jack is utterly oblivious so Davey can’t get a read on Jack’s feelings. The other Newsies and Katherine, possessing an outside perspective and functioning eyes, are trying to convince Davey to make a move, but Davey is hesitant to take that kind of risk. They also try to give Jack pointed hints and nudges in the right direction, but Jack is just not getting it.

In the meantime, Jack’s personality and good looks are already a huge draw for the other girls that work at The World, and once he gets his fancy clothes he’s just super attractive. Maggie isn’t the only one at work that has a crush on Jack, but she is the one brave enough to approach Jack about a date. (This all relates to the upcoming chapter of tie fic, which will be very fun.. ;)) And Jack is like, ‘huh, yeah, okay,’ because Maggie is nice and pretty and there’s no harm in going on a single date, right? And then the next thing Jack knows, he and Maggie have been dating for over a month and she wants to get to know his friends better, now that they’re properly courting. And Jack’s like, ‘sure, makes sense, why not?’ and decides to bring her around for lunch with the others at Jacobi’s

As all that’s happening, the Newsies have finally convinced Davey to try and talk to Jack about his feelings. They’re very convincing: they have all these anecdotes of how Jack treats Davey/talks about Davey/looks at Davey, and Davey’s still not completely sure, still sort of thinks they’re just reading too much into it, but they all seem so confident. Racetrack especially is absolutely certain that Jack has feelings for Davey but is just an idiot, and after several weeks of wheedling and coaxing, Davey’s convinced to at least broach the subject.

And of course, of course, the day that Davey works up the nerve to confess is the day Jack introduces them all to Maggie.

So that’s how they all tie together! Tie fic is the same set of circumstances and set up as take a shot, only Jack has a lot more emotional awareness in that one and isn’t interested in pursuing anyone but Davey, which saves them from The Angst.

00000

@agentsnickers

[findmeintheafterglow]

A Guide to Every Single Newsie

There are way too many of those punks. If you’re new to all this come learn whom is who

Let’s start with some pictures, they’re blurry because it’s surprisingly hard to get a decent screenshot. There are lots of them but hopefully just seeing their faces a few times will help you. Recognizing them just comes with time trust me, I used to struggle to find Race and now I see a pic of someone's feet and am like “ah yes Finch my boy”. Also, I’m only covering the newsies live cast because that’s what you can legally watch and what most people are familiar with. Also, I didn’t want to do every cast member to ever be on Broadway or tour.

Please note some of the things I’m about to say may not be canon but are part of what I know is widely considered true within the fandom. As far as sexuality I may mention it with some characters/who they’re commonly shipped with just so y’all aren’t lost when you see fics and things.

Jack: You know Jack so I’m not going that deep into his character. He’s 17, full name Francis Sullivan, newsie nickname is Cowboy. He’s the leader of the newsies of Lower Manhattan. A charismatic asshole who really just wants meaningful relationships and happiness for those he loves. Undeniably bisexual. Played by Jeremy Jordan.

Davey: Full name is David Jacobs, newsie nickname is Walking Mouth though he’s only addressed by his nickname in the 1992 movie. The most educated, attended school until he was around 17 ish. He’s a doofy little nerd and also mom friend ultimate, I repeat bc this is a defining trait Mom Friend Ultimate. I’m not sure if this is canon but pretty much everyone recognizes that he and his family are Jewish. Played by Ben Fankhauser.

Les: Sassy angel child. Full name Lesley Jacobs. Albert calls him shortstop a few times but it’s not quite a newsie name tm. 10 years old(almost). Also pretty Jewish. He’s kind of an impressionable little firecracker, he looks up to all the newsies but especially Jack. He just has a lot of energy and wants to hang with the big kids. Sass master in training. Buckets of charm packed into about 4 feet of human. Played by Ethan Steiner.

Crutchie: Crutchie! You know him! You’ve already fallen madly in love with him! Lost use of one of his legs to polio. Last name is Morris for sure and a lot of people say his real name is Charlie. Jack’s closest friend. He’s often painted as a pure sunshine boy, he is a pure sunshine boy. However, he is also tough, streetsmart and ready to fight. Very kindhearted and eternally optimistic. Played by Andrew Keenan-Bolger(you may see it abbreviated as AKB).

Race: This boy has lots of names so strap in. Racetrack Higgins is his name, people mostly call him Race not Racetrack. He is also sometimes called Racer. I don’t think this is canon but as a fandom, I think we’ve determined that he’s aggressively Italian and his real first name is Antonio, you may also see Anthony or Tony. Best friends with Albert. Crutchie is Jack’s best friend but Race is sort of Jack’s second in command. Sprace, him and Spot Conlon, are pretty much the biggest ship in Newsies. He’s a gambler and has an affinity for betting on horse races. He sells by the Sheepshead Racetrack hence his nickname. Very easy to recognize because he always has a cigar. The definition of a disaster gay. He has good intentions most of the time but is also a chaotic piece of shit. Played by Ben Tyler Cook(BTC).

Albert: Albert DaSilva is his name, having fantastic hair is his game. Race’s best friend. Personality is similar to Race but a little less chaotic, like he still does dumb things all the time but isn’t nearly as loud. Prankmaster and Sassmaster ultimate. Lives on the lower east side with his dad and two older brothers but generally that fact is ignored and he’s lumped in as living in the lodgings.  His cap is on backwards most of the time which can help you recognize him. Played by Sky Flaherty.

Spot: Spot Conlon, the man, the myth, the legend. Leader of Brooklyn. Comically short but will also soak you without hesitation. Side note bc I didn’t know this for a long time: the newsies call beating someone up “soakin’ ‘em” because you beat them up so bad they’re soaked in blood. Back to Spot, he’s tough as nails but also cares about his boys in Brooklyn a lot. Played by Tommy Bracco.

Elmer: A smart yet small boy. Very good at math and science and somewhat interested in politics. He has 8 older siblings. Polish apparently? I learned this very recently?? A very friendly and sunshiney guy. The newsies make fun of him saying that he’s bad at selling papes. He’s a hardworker. This is definitely not canon but you may see his last name as being Kasprzak. This comes from Evan Kasprzak, the actor who played Elmer in the Papermill and Original Broadway Casts. People like writing about Elmer so they just kinda gave him that last name and it works. Played by Anthony Zas.

Jojo: Jorgelino Josephino De La Guerra where to begin. A good Catholic boy. He was raised by nuns in a cathedral in Harlem. A nice boy, a kind boy. Down for some shenanigans but is generally reasonable and doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. Very ambitious and wants to be a big baller(in KONY he wishes for a solid gold watch I mean). Played by Joshua Burrage.

Buttons: Benjamin Buttons Davenport, what a guy. So I don’t know that he’s actually younger but he definitely reads as a little more youthful. He’s optimistic and easily excitable and overall kinda has this genuine hope and happiness that some of the other guys have lost to the street. He lives with his family and has at least a few siblings but I feel like he has hella. Not gonna be last in line for the tub tonight. Played by Chaz Wolcott.

Romeo: Will flirt with anything that moves. He has very distinctive bright red and blue striped socks if that helps you identify him. Is one of the younger newsies but makes up for it with overconfidence. Very lighthearted, we never see him get too serious. A charmer through and through. Still a very kind and caring guy. Played by Nico DeJesus.

Specs: Specs is a good one. He wears glasses obviously so you can identify him pretty easy. Definitely on the older end of the newsies. There’s no basis for this in canon but I feel like he’s been around longer than Jack. Kind of helps lead and run things with Race and Jack because he’s the most responsible motherfucker in that lodging house. Think kinda like Davy where he’s a bit of a mom but more easygoing, less cautious and more one of the boys. Generally a happy guy and so so sweet. Very forward thinking and genuinely likes selling papes. Played by Jordan Samuels.

Finch: Finch! A personal favorite please show him love. Full name is Patrick Cortes. He has a family(or at least a mom) but ran away when he was little. He carries a slingshot with him a good amount of the time so use that to find him. He’s sarcastic, funny, and always rarin’ to go. Tough but not in an “I’ll fight you” way. He will fight you if needed but it’s more like “Life’s a bitch but look how far I’ve made it”. Kinda like a cool older brother vibe but throw in a good handful of antsy. Played by my main man Iain Young.

Sniper: Mkay it’s time for the tough boi trio, these next three are fighters. Last name is Wah. His dad is named Sam Wah and owns a laundromat above Jacobi’s Deli. You may see him as a girl in fics or hcs because for almost all of the tour he was played by a woman. Boy has aim like no other. He is confirmed to be the quickest and strongest of the newsies. Also sly and cunning. Boy’s like a snake or a fox or whatever simile you prefer but regardless be scared. Has a reputation so people don’t mess with him. Would never hurt another Manhattan boy, he’s scary but he defends his brothers. Played by Daniel Switzer.

Tommy Boy: Don’t know a ton about Tommy Boy but here we go. He’s a man of few words, when he talks his answers are brief and to the point. Not in a mean way though that’s just how he is. Appears to be confrontational as he’s consistently seen stepping to a fight(before the world will know when Jack says “keep your shirt on” and when he scabs he gets in people’s faces). A good dependable guy but kinda mysterious, I would not provoke. Played by Michael Dameski.

Mush: Last name is Myers. First name is possibly Nick? In the real strike, there was a boy named Nick Myers so. He lives in Harlem?? But who cares about canon, ignore that. Mush is a ‘hattan boy. Has a lisp. He considers himself to be the muscle of Manhattan and will throw down for his brothers. When the strikebreakers show up, Jack literally has to hold him back because Mush is just trying to get to those hoes so he can protect the rest of the boys just yellin’ “Nah man I’ll get ‘em”. Very caring and very selfless. Boy’s got muscle but is totally a teddy bear with a heart of gold. I’ve always thought of him as your classic rough and tumble but clean-cut caring all-American boy. Played by Nick Masson.

Henry: Last name is possibly butler after the real life newsboy, Henry Butler but the only confirmed name we have is Henry. Became a newsie at 11 when his dad died and his family lost their deli. Has a mom who he still sees sometimes but doesn’t live with. Boy really likes food. It reminds him of the deli with his dad and also he just really. likes. food. Fairly easygoing, practical, and will call guys out on their bullshit(e.g. whom the fuck cares about being famous). Played by Michael Rios.

Smalls: Smalls! I don’t got much at all but here’s what I know. Very commonly thought about as a girl as Smalls was played by girlsies for all(?) of the Broadway run. Pretty firey or at least high energy. Sometimes headcannoned as being leader of the Bronx because in the normal not filmed staging he’s the one to yell “so’s the Bronx”. Played by Julian DeGuzman.

Mike: Twin brother of Ike. These guys are hard to tell apart because they’re played by actual twins but here are some distinctions. Mike wears a brown cap, a plaid shirt, and green socks. Played by Jacob Guzman.

Ike: Twin brother of Mike. Has a dark grey cap, a striped shirt, pin-striped pants, and brown socks. Both twins seem to be pretty fun-loving. They kinda rough house a lot and are often messing around. Played by David Guzman

Hotshot: A Brooklyn newsie, I don’t really know his deal? A typical production doesn’t have Hotshot in it but he was in the filmed version and was apparently there towards the end of the broadway run. Kind of arrogant and tough. Sometimes seen as Spot’s second. Has literally only ever been played by J.P. Ferreri.

Vince/Myron: Ok so for newsies live they just threw in some extra newsboys for the heck of it and this guy is one of those. I don’t even know his name because the actor who plays him also plays a strikebreaker. On the wiki cast list, it just lists him as playing Vince and Myron with no indication as to who’s the newsie and who’s the strike breaker. Just from the nature of the names I can guess that Vince is the newsie? A big tough Brooklyn boy. Played by Stephen Hernandez.

Willie/Bart: Same deal as Vince/Myron. I’d be willing to guess that Willie is the newsie. Another Brooklyn boy. Played by Andrew Wilson.

Kenny: Also thrown in just for newsies live but I actually know his name. A pretty sunny guy, as far as I can remember he’s always smiling. Not in any of the pictures because he’s not in any of those scenes. It’s the same guy who plays darcy so go to carrying the banner or once and for all and find the guy in the yellow suit. That’s Darcy, Kenny looks just like that but in newsie clothes. Played by Jack Sippel.

Am I about to throw Bill and Darcey in just for kicks? yeah I think I am. Ok so this is a last minute decision and I don’t have pictures for these guys but here we go.

Bill: Not a newsie. Son of William Randolph Hearst, owner of the New York Journal. Full name William Randolph Hearst Jr. Katherine and Darcey’s friend. A sophisticated, classy, educated boy. Not tough in a street way but is kind of cold/reserved or maybe just a bit calculating. You can definitely tell he’s a rich boy by the way he holds himself. Looks like Mush bc they’re played by the same actor. Blue suit. Played by Nick Masson.

Darcey: Not a newsie. Son of Whitelaw Reid, owner of the New York Tribune. Still high class but more excitable and interested in the newsies world. Very kind and always concerned of behalf of others. His sweetness does not equal weakness, when Romeo approaches Kath in Carrying the Banner, he’s ready to handle the situation. Yellow suit. Played by Jack Sippel.

so there we go that is every newsie I could think of and then some. I’m gonna attach the pictures I have of an old wikipedia cast list which is what I use for reference since the one that's on wiki now isn’t great

That’s it! If you actually read all this, God bless you. If I got anything blatantly wrong or if you have any questions please talk to me

[theatricalwriter]

could i get ships for newsies and wicked, if possible? i'm a bi female, 5 feet tall, curly dark hair, and a prominent nose. i'm really dorky and neurotic, and i have this constant need for people to like me, and i'm not sure why? and i love to sing, except i can only sing theatrical stuff because i've got a really noticeable vibrato (and because i'm extra). i also write sometimes? but i haven't really had time lately, because school is mean.

i’m sorry this took so long and i’m really sorry they aren’t my best. it’s been a while since i wrote headcanons so these aren’t where i’d like them to be bt i really hope you enjoy them!!

newsies:

i ship you with davey!!

this boi

THIS BOI

so you guys meet in school probs

he hears you singing to yourself as your cleaning the blackboards and he’s all like: jasadmsmd omg this girl

somehow he finds the courage to talk to you and asks if you want to go on a date to which you accept

first date was totally cute

y’all went out to this lil cheap restaurant (and by cheap i mean a family friend that gives him a hefty discount)

you both talked about our life aspirations and interests

davely loves that you write and also loves your singing

wants to hear you sing 24/7

lsdsldflsmd loves your hair

like he just loves how your curls bounce when you both run down the new york streets just because you want

truthfully, a little after your third date, he realizes he’s whipped for you

the boys don’t let him forget that either

like he’ll do everything he can for you and more

speaking of the boys, you're super nervous to meet them

you just really want them to like you, even if davey insists that they will

you had a little dinner at jacobi’s with jack, kath, crutchie, race, and a few others

race flirted with you almost all night just to rile davey up but they loved you so so so soooooooooo much

on the days where you aren’t doing anything, you two will just sit in his apartment doing nothing in particular

like, you’ll be writing while he reads and it’s just peaceful silence

during one of these lazy days, you two have your first kiss

it was cold in december so you were both curled up together under the same blanket which was pretty normal for you two

but for some reason, the second the two of you looked into each other’s eyes, you both just remembered how much in love you were with one another and boom

kiss

i’ sorry, i honestly wish i had more headcanons for davey but i have a good amount for your next ship!!

wicked:

i ship you with elphaba!!

you’re extra? you have a vibrato? you’re a lil dorky? do you know who this girl is most often shipped with? if this is you, instantly falls head over heels

only difference is that you’re nice to her when you first meet

i think the start of your relationship is when she runs out of the classroom after seeing what they were doing to that poor lion cub

you run after her to make sure she’s okay, which she really appreciates

you tell her that she looks different, which she totally does bc this is after popular, you know

“... do you like it?”

“honestly? i think the you that you like.”

“cryptic but okay.”

she appreciates you though

because you look at her like a person, the first one to do that

in the time she spends at shiz, she loves talking to you

during lunch, the two fo you will eat and just dicuss your interests

her eyes light up when she hears you like to write

constantly asking you to let her read your work & you constantly telling her someday but not today

glinda does not like you

you want to get her to like you because elphaba likes her and because of that little thing where you want people to like you

but sis just doesn’t

elphaba tells you to let it go but you just !!! dlskfmvlsldm

it’s a lil heated between the two of you when the three of you go to the emerald city

after finding out the wizard is a fraud and sets his guards on you all, you want nothing more than for her to fly away from it all

but glinda’s over here saying elphaba should step the fuck down when you’re telling her to step the fuck up kyle

but when the guards are beating down the door, elphaba just grabs your face and kisses you hard in hopes you’ll kiss back which you def do

while glinda goes and steals all that fame, you go off to other things

you work in a club in the emerald city as a singer

one day, a boring day, the wizard’s guards show up to your job thinking you know something about the wicked witch

you were hurt and let me tell you, elphaba is P I S S E D

i don’t want this to be too long, but long story short, when you get hurt, she does everything in her power to make sure you’re okay

when you are, she takes you into hiding with her

your days together are spent in quiet serenity

you write stories and poetry while elphaba curls up to you in the light of the fireplace with tea on the stove

she loves listening to your voice, it soothes her

you get an animal together, a cat maybe, and spend the rest of your days with each other, hiding from the world that hates you both

her for speaking her mind, and you for standing beside her

you both lovingly look back on your days at shiz, but are content with all that you have now

[who-is-the-king-of-new-york]

Letters(Newsies WW1 AU)

Summary: Blink and Crutchie stay home while the others go to war. (based on my really old hcs) 

Yes, this is long-awaited and it’s finally here (if I ever continue this I will post more parts but as of now this is all I have.) This also took a hell of a lot of research on what the American’s did when they first joined the war, so I apologise if this appears to be more like it is british because that’s what I go off normally. 

Dear Blink and Crutchie,

We have arrived safely. We will barely be here a week before we are positioned into British lines to replace a lost regiment, luckily we will remain together. While setting up camp we have seen many British soldiers pass through, half of them with bandages wrapped around various limbs as they head to their ships back home across the channel. We can only hope that they survive the boat ride back to England. Tommy says that they look like a shit version of that mummy that was discovered in Egypt when we were teens. The town we are occupying has some lovely French women who are helping out with the cooking in a mess hall. It makes it feel like home, unlike what we are used to when we have to cook our own meal with the measly rations.

There's more color here than what the papers made it out to be. Although, Tom and I have decided that it's probably just because we aren't on the front lines yet where Al is taking photos. I think I saw Racer walking around, taking pictures of us as we arrived, but I couldn't quite tell because we had to continue moving. The other fellas who arrived with us are taking their chances with flirting with the girls who live in the town. It's quite funny to be quite honest, apparently one of them called a girl 'an ugly cow'. I'm not too sure. Crutch, you might know what 'laid vache' means. At least I think that's what he said. The passing British general said that it was what you should say to them. Clearly, he was playing with us and I could hear some of the wounded following him snickering so I don't think that the boy knew what he was doing when he said it.

Currently, Tom and I are writing this letter because the other boys are struggling to sleep with the artillery in the background because they are terrified. Most of us are writing letters to loved ones but as we only have the ex-newsies we thought why not write to you to let you know we're okay. We also have a bet on how many of them are going to sign up to fight.

Tom wants me to mention the way we stopped at Lafayette's grave on our way here. He thought it was admirable that we did that. Bring part of the provisional division is quite strange, there are no other Americans other than the ones we brought with us. It's hard seeing what has happened to the British as we pass by their hospitals and camps. Apparently, we're here to assist the French and British lines because of the situation on the Italian lines. Something about them losing 60 miles? Has it been in the papes back home?

What's the coverage like? How are you two doing? Is the lodging house okay? How are your boys? Any improvements in the love life? I was beginning to think I was getting more than you both combined and I can't get a moment alone with a lady. Tell the rest of them that we're okay and miss them!

Love, Henry (with input from Tommy Boy)

Crutchie and Blink sent a letter in reply telling them about the status at home, about all of the boys putting their names into the draft, some of them being chosen to go already. They also put in a picture of Les in his uniform before he left weeks before their letter arrived. They knew the boys in the lodging house - which they took over from Kloppman when he retired - would want to send a message so they sealed a letter comprised of messages from all of them inside as well. All they had to do was wait the incredibly long time between the letters being sent and the arrival on the lines.

Just days after they sent that letter they had Davey breaking through the doors of the lodging house with the news. News that Henry was home. It was true. Henry was home with a bullet wound through his shoulder which rendered his arm useless for months. He could hardly lift a glass of water to his lips with it, let alone hold a rifle and dig trenches. Henry had money to survive and live with from his 5-year military career but he decided that he would get a job. He couldn't stand sitting around and waiting for his arm to regain strength. He acted on the dream he had as a kid, he wanted to open a bakery. Well, he started the first step towards that at least.

Jacobi was still going in his deli and taught Henry how to bake while paying him for the goods he produced. At first, he struggled to knead the dough due to the minimal use of his left arm and he settled on holding the bowls of whatever batter in his weak arm while kneading or mixing with the other. This allowed him to slowly rebuild the strength while still rapidly producing baked goods. The taste of them improved with each batch. Jacobi loved watching Henry bake, remembering the times as a newsie when all he did was stare at them because he couldn't afford to buy the pastries. Jacobi was proud of these boys and the men most of them had become.

The best part of Henry's recovery was him finding a girl. It was the stereotypical love story. She would come in every day just to buy his pastries and watch him through the door to the kitchen. Jacobi noticed and often let her stay after closing to talk to Henry. She was much younger than Henry, somewhere in her early 20s, parents nagging her to marry a nice upper-class man. She came from a background like Katherine's, rich businessman father and high standards. She didn't care much for the expectations for her to marry someone like Darcy. She loved Darcy to pieces but not in the way her mother wanted her too. The only thing that was playing in her favor was the fact that Henry had been honorably discharged from the army, something that her father would respect greatly but would appreciate the ambition to own a bakery.

Race would be home in a few days. That’s the only thing that was going through the groups' mind, the ones at home at least. Crutchie had been to his home to clean it before he came home, realising it was completely unnecessary now that Race had left it to his new fiancé while he was away. The girl had been a street kid like themselves, finding work at Medda’s as a stage manager and costume maker and really whatever Medda needed at the time. She had taken it upon herself to clean the house from top to bottom on her day off that week, excluding the office in which Race kept his cameras because he was very specific about how it was kept.

Race would be home soon and that was the glimmer of hope they had to a glimpse into what their friends were going through. They were praying it was better than what the British were going through. Although, all the information that they had was nothing more than a few snippets in the papers because of the increasingly isolationist country that they lived in.

The day when the first telegram rolled through the door was the beginning of the cull. The group held a mutual silence amongst their group as they mourned the short-lived life of their friend. Their brother. Blink and Crutchie focussed on the boys in their care, reminding them of what the lost member of their pack used to be when they first met all those years ago. The boys had noticed too, each of them making sure they were home on time to not cause them unnecessary stress. The young ones being brought home by the elder ones, giving Blink the peace of mind required to ensure that none of them attempted to sign up while underage. The silence was kept until a letter arrived.

Dear the ex-newsie pack,

I am writing to you from a hospital bed, or the closest thing to a hospital. I believe I’m at a clearing station run by the British until I can get transferred to an American one. Although, I’m writing to you now while the morphine is numbing the pain enough to tell you that I don’t think I’ll be able to get home. The doctors have taken the bullet out but the blood is still seeping through the bandage hours after, it’s an open wound in a shitty hut in the middle of France, I’ll either bleed out or get an infection.

Davey, you allowed me to live long enough to write this letter. The medical knowledge you gave me meant that I could survive off of my minimal medical supplies until I was rescued by the British. I tried to refuse the morphine they gave me but I came in as the fresh shipment came in. Thank you, I love you.

The rest of you better not miss me too much, take care of Sally for me.

See you in the next life,

Les

There were bloody fingerprints on the corners of the envelope and strange red mud stains on the letter itself.

[be-more-chill-evan-hansen]

Holiday fic

I know that a lot of characters don’t have canon religion, and I also know that it’s a possibility of either being Jewish or just not celebrating Christmas, so I am writing a fic that’s more for the holiday season that Christmas. As a Christian, I have come to acknowledge that Christmas didn’t even belong to Christians to begin with (it originated with Pagans celebrating the winter solstice and was practiced before the birth of Jesus and Jesus wasn't born in winter) so when I celebrate Christmas, I celebrate as a time to spend with family and friends (and I get gifts so...) and not as Jesus’ birthday, so when I write this, I am writing this as them trading gifts and spending time together. I don’t think it’s best to describe this as a “Christmas fic” since the characters are very diverse, so “Holiday Fic” seems more fitting.

Please let me know what you think.

This story is featuring, or at least mentioning, all of my OCs, and I had to update my Tumblr OC list because I forgot that my descriptions for Damien and Rich were on AO3 first and I had forgotten how I described them and had to fix it so here is the 100% accurate updated version. And I tried adding as many characters as I could, but it’s so hard and I was under pressure, so please don’t hate me. I am ageing the characters up to 18+ for reasons. And I made Dragon Fly (me essentially) Albert’s cousin because I can bend canon however I want.

It sucks, and it’s everywhere, but I wanted to get something out for the holidays. And I added a surprise at the end so you would hate me less. Please bear with me.

Featured ships: Relmer (I had to); Spalbert (for Alexa); Jatherine (they’re cute and they’re both raging bisexuals fight me); Blush; Finch/Buttons

Era: Modern

Warnings: none

Word count: 1315 (I think that’s a record)

Also, I’ve been struggling with this for a week. Please go easy on me.

~~~~

Jack was grateful that Jacobi let them rent the place out for the annual Holiday Party Extravaganza. They picked a day and time in December that worked for everyone’s schedule and did “Secret Santa” so everyone would get a gift. Usually, the party was at Jack’s house, but the group grew over the year, and his tiny apartment would not be able to hold everyone.

Everyone helped to move tables so the center of the floor would be cleared. Race hooked up his phone to a loudspeaker, courtesy of Albert, and played showtunes to “set the mood” for the party. Everyone dropped the presents they brought on the counter.

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” Jack was standing in the middle of the room. “First, I would like to thank Jacobi for letting us use his place to have our party.” He waited for everyone to quiet down before continuing. “I would also like to thank our new friends who joined the group this year. Hopefully we haven’t weirded you out too much.” He looked at everyone in the room. “And thank you guys for making this year the best.”

“Encore!” Sarah yelled.

Jack rolled his eyes and walked back to Katherine and kissed her cheek. “I’m excited. This is the biggest party we’ve had.”

“Yeah,” Katherine agreed. “It was nice for Jacobi to let us have it here.”

Davey joined the two and brought them both a cup of punch. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people in a room together before.”

“Same here,” Jack said. “I just hope that it doesn’t go horribly and end with Jacobi banning us.”

“Jacobi will never ban us.” Katherine laughed at her boyfriend. “He loves us.” She pointed to the table with Race, Elmer, Spot, and Albert. “They’re acting like it’s a double date.”

“Leave them alone,” Davey joked. “Let them have fun. It’s a party.”

Spot wrapped his arm around Albert’s shoulders. “I feel like this party will be the best one yet.”

Albert looked at his boyfriend. “And why is that?”

“I don’t know. Just a thought.”

“Just a thought?” Race asked. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Spot mocked laughter. “It’s not as lame as your life.”

Race pretended to be offended. “I know my life is lame, but hey!”

.

Romeo turned to August. "Have you ever thought about dyeing your hair?"

August shrugged their shoulders. "I never thought about it. I don't know what color would look okay."

"I think any color would suit you."

"Really?" August asked. "I don't think I would look good with any color. Green wouldn’t look good at all."

Romeo laughed. "Not green. Maybe something pastel, like lavender or a pale blue."

"Lavender? Really?"

"Yeah."

"I can see it," a voice said from behind Romeo. Mush looked over the booth at August.

"What are you doing, Mush?" Romeo asked.

"Listening to you guys obliviously flirting with each other." He had a smirk on his face.

"We aren't flirting," August said. "Please leave."

"Kay." Mush walked off laughing and went to find Kid Blink. When he found him, he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah." Kid Blink turned around and kissed his boyfriend on the top of his head. "Go have fun. It's a party."

"Says the person sulking in the corner."

"I am not sulking. I am brooding. There's a difference."

"Brooding?" Mush asked. "What are you? Batman?"

"Funny."

"RACE AND ELMER ARE UNDER THE MISTLETOE!" Smalls yelled.

Race and Elmer quickly shared a kiss, which was over as soon as it started. It caused some of the others to boo.

"That was boring!" Romeo yelled.

"Where was the passion?" River asked.

"My dead grandma kisses hotter than that!" Finch called out from the other side of the room. 

"Grow up, guys," Race said. He and Elmer sat back down with Spot and Albert. “Hey, Albert. I know that your cousin prefers to go by her nickname, but what’s her real name?”

Albert leaned in very slowly, trying to reach Race’s ear. When Race moved his ear, closer, Albert blew into it. “I’m not telling you.”

“You’re boring,” Race said, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling of Albert’s warm breath in his ear.

.

Dragon Fly was in the corner with Katherine and Sarah, updating each other about their lives.

"How’s college, Dragon Fly?" Katherine asked. "I know that you're going for writing."

Dragon Fly quickly pulled her cup up to her mouth. "It's...college." She took a long sip from her punch. "God, college makes me want to become an alcoholic.”

Sarah held her cup out. “I’ll cheer to that.”

Liberty passed by them. “I will cheer to that as well.”

“Do you even know what we’re cheering to?” Katherine asked.

“No,” Liberty said. “But, I heard Sarah say she was cheering to something and I didn’t want to be alone.”

Dragon Fly pointed to Max, Damien, and Rich in the corner. “Go talk to them. They look really bored.”

Liberty groaned. “Fine.”

“Time for presents!” Jack called. He passed out the gifts to everyone and sat next to Katherine. “This may be our best party ever.”

She smiled at him. “I may have to agree with you on that.”

“Who got me an empty box?” Finch asked loudly. 

“You haven’t even opened it,” Buttons replied.

“It weighs nothing.” Finch shook the box in his boyfriend’s face. “Nothing.” 

“If you’re so sure it’s nothing, then open it.”

Finch rolled his eyes and ripped the wrapping paper. He opened the box and looked inside. “There’s an envelope taped to the bottom.” He pulled the envelope out and turned it over. He found text and read it to himself. “I know we’ve been dating for five years, but I just want to say....” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. When he opened it, glitter fell into his lap. He read the paper. “The amount of time we’ve been dating isn’t important to this gift. I just wanted to mislead you into opening a glitter bomb. I love you.” He turned to Buttons. “Cute. Where’s my real gift?”

Buttons smiled. “Behind the counter. I’ll go get it.”

“That was the best fake gift I’ve ever seen,” Henry said. 

“You’re telling me,” Sniper replied.

“Hey, Finch,” Buttons said, “I need you back here real quick. You’re present is too big to move by myself.”

Finch got up, brushed glitter off of himself, and walked to where Buttons was. When he walked behind the counter, he stopped. “Buttons?”

Buttons was on the floor behind the counter, kneeling with a ring in his hand. “Finch, I know that we’re only 21, but from the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the perfect person for me. I’ve been trying for the past few months, but I couldn't find the right time. When I drew your name for Secret Santa, I knew that this was a sign. I knew that it was meant to be now. Just like I knew that we would be together. You are my best friend, my life, and my soulmate. I love you so much. Will you, Patrick Cortes, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Finch stood speechless. He was frozen with his hand over his mouth. “Is this for real?”

“It’s as real as the glitter that will not wash off for the rest of your life.”

Finch let out a small laugh, trying to hold back tears. “Yes.” He let Buttons slide the ring onto his finger and hugged him tightly. “You’ve always been dramatic.”

Mush grabbed the mistletoe and held it over Finch and Buttons. “You have to kiss now!”

Buttons pulled Finch into a kiss and rested his forehead on Finch’s. “If you thought this was dramatic, wait for the wedding.”

~~~~

I needed something cute and I was like “huh, maybe a Secret Santa proposal would be cute” so I did it and I hope it makes up for the crappiness. Thanks for reading. 

TAG LIST (message/inbox me if you want to be added):

@daveys-pet-snake

@galaxy-trees13

@disasterbisexualhere

@marcusisaprettygay

@ughwaitwhat

@purplelittlepup

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@crutchie-the-crutch

@graceful-popcorn

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

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@aw-jus-let-em-try

@suddenly-im-respecsable

[moved-glowfaery]

Crutchie’s Crush

Ship: Crutchie x Girl

Era: Canon Era

Notes: 

Words: 740

Crutchie had something to admit. Not that he liked admitting it and he would most likely never admit it out loud, certainly not to the other newsies. Heck, he could barely admit it softly to himself. But there was no denying it. He had a crush. Overall, this was not a big problem and he could easily avoid it if he wanted to, New York is a big city and all he needed to do to avoid his crush was to sell his papes at a different street corner. But he couldn’t, he simply could not. He tried to leave and find a different spot, but the second he laid eyes on his crush, he felt like he was nailed down to the floor like his good leg was as useless as his bad leg. It felt like he could only stare at her, and that would be enough to survive. There were moments he had to convince himself he really needed to sell papes, so he could have dinner, otherwise, he would’ve come home with bags full of unsold papes for days in a row.

He had thought about asking one of the boys about advice, but they were useless. He had seen before how the other boys tried to flirt with girls and women and it almost never ended well. Crutchie could simply not take the risk that he made a fool of himself in front of this girl.

Today had been going well, it was warm for June, but not too warm. Everything was okay until she entered. Crutchie had almost thought she had the day off, but just before lunch time, he saw the girl entering the bakery from the back. Her dark hair was tied back, and her baker’s apron covered her green dress. She started talking to a customer, her smile showed off the gap between her two front teeth. Crutchie loved every bit of her.

“Hey, Crutchie! We missed ya at Jacobi” Romeo called out as he approached, Specs on his side.

“Yeah, Is still got lots to sell,” Crutchie shrugged, nodding towards his bag still half filled with papes.

“Good luck!” Specs said as they passed, Romeo snatching Crutchie’s cap. Crutchie protested loudly until Romeo tossed it back. Crutchie managed to grab it out of the air, pulling it over his hair. His gaze moved towards the bakery again, and it was easy to get distracted while she was in there, working her way through lunch rush hour. Crutchie’s attention got snapped back towards his job when a man was basically waving a coin in front of his face, he quickly pocketed it and handed the man his pape. He crossed the street so he could work with his back turned towards the bakery, eager to sell as many papes as he could before lunch hour was over.

It worked, he was down to his last three papes. Which meant he was granting himself a break. The bell of the bakery door was loud when he entered. She was standing behind the counter, her back turned towards her as she was sweeping the floor. Crutchie took off his cap, clutching it in his hands. She finally turned around, a smile on her face when she spotted him.

“Hi there, the usual?” Her voice sounded so posh compared to the newsies their accents.

“Yes, please, ma’am”

“It’s nice weather out, is it not?” She asked as she made his usual order, the cheapest sandwich they sold.

“It’s quite hot, but bettah than wintah,” he was very aware of how his accent sounded compared to her, but he tried his best to sound as posh as he could, which barely made a difference.

“I prefer summer over winter, but spring might be my favourite. I love it when the flowers grow. Mama gets sick during spring, so she hates it,” She might have been the easiest conversation partner Crutchie ever had, which only made her more charming.

“Spring is nice,” he nodded. “Is loves the colour of the leaves during fall,”

“Fall is very pretty indeed,” she agreed before handing him the sandwich. “There you go. Will I see you again tomorrow?”

“Only if ya want to, ma’am.”

“Of course, I want to, I love talking to you. Oh, and please call me Margaret,”

“Well, see ya tomorrow, Margaret,” He smiled, before heading out of the store, the bell ringing again as he exited.

[hearts-upon-our-sleeves]

Prove It >> Spot Conlon.

Masterlist.

Title: Prove It.

Pairing:  Spot Conlon x Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 1600

Warnings: Cursing, sexual themes.  

Author’s Note: For about 5 minutes can we all agree to imagine you are 5’4 or under, you don’t have to but i’m writing it that way. Also I never write like this, I honestly wanted to try a headcanon style mixed with a fanfic so I think it’s cool. This 100% is not my best work but I still think it’s good enough to post.

-“Ay, you heard the man, let’s split up let’s spread the word.”

-“Specs, you take Queens. Tommy-Boy, Take the East Side, and who wants Brooklyn?”

-Every single newsies eyes were on you, which made you groan and throw your heard back. “No flippin’ way, I ain’t dealing with Conlon.”

- “She ain’t going, no way in hell i’d let that happen.”

-You honestly thanked God for a split second. You hated that idiot Spot Conlon, but you also knew Spot wouldn’t listen to any other Manhattan Newsie.

-“Listen I’ll go if you’se all needs me too.”

-“No, and that’s final. Finch you’se telling me you’se scared of Brooklyn?”

-You scoffed quietly to yourself, as much as you hated Spot you knew he would do whatever you asked him.

-“Me and Davey will take Brooklyn.”

-As Davey argued a girl came in asking why everyone's so scared of Brooklyn.

-“Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world, you got Brooklyn you got the motherlode.”

-After that you zoned out, not really caring about what was going on.

-Spot Conlon was an arrogant asshole who chased after anything with tits.

-‘King of Brooklyn’ he and everyone else deemed him. You weren’t even scared of him, yet every other newsies in New York was. He was 5’4 for Christ’s sake!

-Not like you were much taller but still.

-He pissed you off 24/7, someone could just think the name Spot Conlon and you’d get pissed.

-Every single time Spot saw you it was flirt city.

-You were never scared of him, you heard the stories but you couldn’t give a shit.

-You took a minute to cool down before you headed off with Race to spread the word of the strike.

-

-The strike didn’t go too well when the bulls showed up and destroyed us.

-Crutchie was in the refuge and Jack was nowhere to be found.

-Your whole body ached, a bull had thrown you into a wall when you tried to help -Crutchie get away. At this point your left eye was black, blue and puffy, accented by a busted lip.

-Other than that just scrapes and bruises.

-Davey talked about holding a rally in Medda’s theatre with Newsies from all over New York, but for that to happen we needed Spot.

-Davey tried to send Specs but you stopped him.

-“Jack told me we can’t let you’se go to Brooklyn for your protection!”

-“Listen, Jack’s not here, we all got our asses kicked, and I just lost my best pal to the damn refuge. I’se goin’ whether y’all like it or not.”

-“Tell your boyfriend I’se said Hi!” Al called out and everyone stopped.

-“You’se gotta boyfriend?” Les piped up as you glared Al into the corner.

-Kathrine showed up at the right time to watch everything go down.

-You groaned and walked out of Jacobi’s as they all chatted about you and Spot.

-If you were being honest you were saving every ounce of hate you had for Spot.

-You started the trek from Manhattan to Brooklyn, which took a couple hours.

-

-No Brooklyn newsie stood in your way once you crossed their turf.

-You had looked like you faced death and didn’t even bat an eye.

-Apparently that scared everyone, I mean everyone.

-Once you reached the lodge where Spot was it took every inch of your being not to kill the boys who stood guard.

-“I-I’m sorry Spot says no visitors.”

-You rolled your eyes 100%

-This kid was honestly shaking and you just wanted to yell at Spot in peace.

-Tbh the only way you could get this kid to move was if you intimidated him so that’s what you did.

-You took a step towards him and crossed your arms as you loomed over this boy.

-“I’se don’t want Spot to be mad at me.”

-“I promise you won’t get in trouble”

-He let you in.

-“Spot, you have a guest.”

-“What the hell did I’se say about no one bothering me.”

-Spot finally looked up and saw you.

-His breath visibly hitched.

-The kid scramed and you walked in and closed the door.

“Y/N?” Spot took in your appearance, worry spreading across his face. “The hell happened?” He moved closer to you.

“What do you expect? We got creamed!” You scoffed and pushed past him. He grabbed your wrist and you turned to him. Shaking your head you pulled your wrist away and at at the table.

“I’m so sorry, I’se shoulda gone. If I knew you would have gotten hur-”

“Stop. Don’t start with that bullshit, you knew I’d get hurt you knew we all would but you didn’t go because you didn’t want to get hurt.” You pointed your finger at him and waved it around.

“That’s not true, you know my feelings for ya’s, you know I’d protect you anytime.”  You just scoffed and let out a small laugh.

“I don’t needs you to protect me from shit. I needed you to tell your kids to come and support us. Not a single newsie showed up because you didn’t show up.” You stood to meet his gaze. “Jack is right about one thing, you do rule over Brooklyn, but that doesn’t make you better than any other person on ‘dis here earth. We’re holding a rally of Newsies from all over New York. I need you there.” You placed your hand on his chest as you two looked at each other. Any ounce of anger you had for him drained as you gazed into his eyes. Hearing you say you needed him was music to Spot’s ears. If you were being honest you had no clue what was happening all you knew was Spot’s lips were on yours and you never wanted them to leave. You wrapped your arms around Spot’s neck as he picked you up and set you on the table not once breaking contact from the kiss. Spot stood between your legs, his hands resting on your hips. Moments pass and Spot trails his hands up your sides not realizing you had a massive bruise that was on your ribcage.

“Fuck.” You hissed and clutched your side in pain, breaking away from Spot who was now extremely sorry and worried. Spot tried to take a look but you placed your hand on his chest and snapped back into reality. “I really should go. I wanna get home before dark.” You got up and pushed past Spot who was trying everything he could to get you to stay, but he realized you were going.

“Y/N, I’ll be there and I’ll bring all the other newsies.” Spot called out to you as you were rushing to leave, you turned back to him.

“Prove it, because I’m going down with Manhattan, whether you’re there or not.” And with that you left and hurried home with the the tingling sensation of Spot still on your lips.

-Woo wee was that something.

-You had a hot makeout session with Spot Conlon. Nice one.

-The boys noticed btw.

-Race was the first one 100%

-“Hey Y/N! Spot gonna come to the rally?”

-You honestly couldn’t respond with words so you nodded and sat on your bed.

-Race and Al noticed 100%

-Your fingers glided along your lips and that’s when they knew.

-“Holy shit! Race they kissed!” Al legit pounced of top of Race but frankly you were still hung up on that kiss.

-

-“Just got word that our buddies is hurtin’” 100% Spot made eye contact with you.

-Al noticed.

-You looked away so fast you got a bit of whiplash.

-You did everything you could to avoid his gaze but he kept looking at you.

-“Would you just talk to him, the sexual tension is way too prominent with you two.”

-You legit were #shocked when Kathrine turned up behind you.

-You’d never stuttered so much trying to say a response.

-Honestly you and Kathrine sat talking for a few minutes until Jack came in and broke up the whole rally.

-In the midst of everything you ran straight into Spot.

-Like someone pushed past you and you fell into Spot.

-Like boy caught you.

-“Y/N, look I’se sorry about what happened the other day, it was outta line.”

-“Spot it’s fine let’s go somewhere else.”

-So y’all did.

-At first you two talked a bit but it 1000% ended in a steamy makeout session.

-As much as you tried to convince yourself that you hated him, you couldn’t get enough of him.

-

-The kids won the strike.

-It was a happy ending, for everyone.

-You cried when Crutchie was released.

-Whilst Kathrine and Jack had their moment you went over to Spot sending his kids back to Brooklyn.

-“Hey, listen Y/n, I’m serious about you’se and if ya know wanna I don’t know, do something sometime?”

-Never in your life had you seen Spot so sincere and terrified.

-“Yea, I’d like that Conlon.”

-Neither of you knew what to do so you just kissed him goodbye which was the wrong thing to do in front of the Manhattan newsies.

-Once Spot was gone all the boys cheered and it was hell from there bc they would not stop teasing you.

-But what could you say?

-You’d fallen for Spot Conlon.

[papesandcigars]

Could you please write a canon era Albert?

I’ve Got Ya {{albert dasilva x reader}}

a/n: I actually don’t know a lot about Albert so this was a bit of a challenge for me! I apologize if I didn’t portray him accurately but I’d also love it if someone would send me fanon about him

word count: 1320

warnings: mentions of alcohol

canon era

unedited/ lightly edited/ fully edited

You brushed wisps of hair away from your face with your elbow, your hands busy kneading out the dough for the last batch of bread you’d make that day. It had been a long week, and you were ready to get out of the deli and have some real fun. “You ready for tonight, (Y/N)?” Thomas, asked, lightly patting your shoulder and leaning against the counter you worked on. Thomas was one of your close friends you’d gotten to know while working your first shift at Jacobi’s. You two, along with your other coworkers, Lydia and Clara, loved going out after the evening shift you all shared on Friday nights. “Thomas, I’m working,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. He was a flirt, and the last thing you needed was for him to distract you. Jacobi was generous when it came to letting you and the other three kids work in his family owned business, and you didn’t want him to second guess his decision because of an unproductive staff. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone,” Thomas laughed, pushing himself off of the counter. “But I’m telling you now- I made friends with a customer who just so happens to own the saloon a couple of blocks down. I think he’ll probably let us in free tonight if you’re sweet enough.” You rolled your eyes, excited at the prospect, but determined to stay on task. Thinking about the drinking games could wait. You finished kneading and set the dough to the side to rest. Right on time, the front door chime rang, so you rinsed your hands, grabbed a pencil and notepad, and walked out to the lobby. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. Those newsboys were back again, and they always came in a huge pack. You tried to hide your slight distaste for them as you strolled over to the tables they began to take up. It was nothing personal or deep, really, they just always took up so much space that could be used for paying customers. They were rowdy and wild, and there was always that one boy who tried to flirt his way into getting free food. And then there was the other one who just flirted to flirt. They were a funny bunch when you were in the mood to laugh, but for now, you just wanted to get out of the deli and have fun with your own friends. “Hey boys,” you smiled, trying to prepare yourself for the craziness to come. “What can I get for you today?” Every boy at the table asked for a glass of water, except for the green eyed redhead you’d always been a little fond of. “A glass’a seltzer, miss,” he beamed, his buddies hitting his shoulders and hyping around him. “Seltzer?” you teased, alluding to the many times the boy had asked for it but could really only afford water. “You sure you can afford it today, friend?” “Sure can, miss!” he proudly exclaimed, pulling out a silver coin. “Got a whole extra nickel I been waiting to spend.” “Wow,” you sarcastically replied, to which the boy chuckled. “Guess I should start calling you Rockefeller, huh?” “You can call me Albert,” he extended his hand to take yours, which you unintentionally allowed, and he placed a kiss on the top of your hand. You rolled your eyes and hoped no one could see the sudden blush that flared upon your cheeks as the other boys laughed and cheered at their friend. “Nice to officially meet ya…” “(Y/N)”, you replied, an unexpected giggle in your voice. “(Y/N),” he smiled softly, then flipped the coin in your direction. “Keep the change,” he smiled, as you caught the coin. The change, of course, wasn’t much. But you held your tongue to allow him the shining moment you were sure he’d never had. You giggled your way all the way back to the kitchen, and after bringing the water and single glass of seltzer out to the boys, Jacobi was kind enough to let you and your friends leave early. You hung your apron and pulled the hair tie out of your hair. Lydia and Clara took the lead, Thomas sticking by your side to flirt as you all walked out of the deli. You laughed at something stupid he’d said, and couldn’t help but notice Albert’s smile falter as he locked eyes with yours. Despite his earlier success with you, Albert’s mood turned gloomy as he watched you walk down the street with your friends from the window. He should’ve known- it didn’t matter that he’d always had a crush on you, you two were from totally separate worlds and hung around totally different people. Your family was pretty well off and you’d only gotten the job at Jacobi’s to earn some extra money and learn a little responsibility- whereas he was selling papers so that he’d be able to eat at least a meal a day, and most times what he earned still wasn’t enough. Embarrassment suddenly rushed throughout him at the excitement he felt, giving you a nickel to keep. What good would it do you? He was ashamed of himself. Meanwhile, you were having a great night out, until things started to get a little too crazy. Several other kids your age had stumbled their way into the bar and nobody was giving anyone grief about it. You lost count of how many shots of liquor you’d had after… you didn’t even remember. You decided to get out while you still could, when you weren’t too far gone, but you couldn’t find Clara or Lydia or even Thomas. You’d find out later that they deserted you on purpose. You stumbled out of the saloon alone, trying hard not to stumble, but tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. He didn’t mean to meet up with you again. He’d told the boys he was just going on a walk, and whether it was by fate or circumstance, he’d ended up crossing paths with you just in time. “(Y/N)?” Albert muttered to himself as you fell forward. He quickly rushed to you, arms extended out, and caught you just before you would’ve hit the pavement. He pulled you up and assessed you for damage. “Albert!” Your head was spinning, but you were sure it was him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… Thank you for… I don’t know where…” He was trying to follow along with your broken sentences, but he was just as confused as you were. “Are ya alright?” he asked, trying to make contact with your wandering eyes. You didn’t answer, still searching desperately for your friends, the people who were supposed to have your back. He followed your switching gaze, and finally understood. “I don’t….” he tried to be as gentle as he could, “I don’t think they’re here, (Y/N). Are you okay?” You finally met his green eyes, which held so much concern for you. Suddenly your heart stopped as you saw the sight before you- his signature red hair was shining under the dim street lights, his lips were almost too close for you not to kiss. Against your drunken judgment, you kept your distance and nodded. “Hey, I’ve got ya. Let me walk you home, yeah?” He steadied you with one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on your shoulder. “Where d’ya live?”“I can’t go home,” you slurred slightly. You really weren’t that far gone, but if your parents caught just a whiff of your breath, you’d be in a world of trouble. You were supposed to stay the night at Clara’s, but you knew that wouldn’t be happening. “Alright,” Albert nodded. “You can stay with us, if ya want. They’s an open bed right next to mine.”And for once, you were relieved to be welcomed in by the ragamuffins of Manhattan.

[denimwrites-archive]

Can we have a #91 with Race??

Newsies (2017) - Racetrack Higgins X Reader - Canon Era#91. Sorry I’m protective over the things I love.

After a long day of selling, you and the other newsie boys decided to go to Jacobi’s as a nice way to relax. It was a weekday so there weren’t too many people hanging around, meaning you guys got to play darts and not really care whether you were being too rowdy.

You had just stepped up for your turn and were taking aim when one of the boys decided to playfully flirt with you. “You know, (Y/N), you should let one of us show you how to throw first, don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

Letting out a scoff, you threw the dart and got pretty close. “I think you’re the one who could use some lessons,” you teased. The guys laughed and badgered the one who tried to distract you. Taking aim again, another boy decided to speak up.

“I’d love a lesson from the lovely (Y/N), is 7 tonight a good time for you?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

You pretended to consider it, letting out a thoughtful hum, before blowing a raspberry at him and letting the dart fly, again getting close to the center, but still not close enough. Letting out a sigh in exasperation, you tried to center yourself.

“I’ll buy you dessert if I get a lesson,” Romeo tried to bribe you, but you shook your head at him.

“C’mon, Ro, you think I’m only worth dessert? You know I’m at least worth a date to the theater,” you shot him a smile. He raised his hands in surrender before laughing, which got a laugh out of you as well.

“Will you take the shot already, some of us also want a turn,” someone grumbled.

“Well then get them to stop distracting me, it’s not my fault I’m trying to concentrate,” you say in playful frustration. The newsies settle down and you take a breath, looking at the target, you take careful aim and concentrate.

Finally feeling ready, you let the last dart fly, and it takes you a moment to realize that you got a bullseye. The boys are all cheering and crowd around you, congratulating you and hugging you. When they finally settle down there are a few who stick to you and keep flirting with you. You tolerate them, sometimes flirting back, but then you notice Race leaning against the wall looking gloomy.

You try to think of why he could be upset, but you aren’t given long to dwell on it until another newsie is stepping up to play and you get caught up watching him. However, in the middle of the new match one of the boys near you tries to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and then Race is in front of you, grabbing your arm and pulling you outside.

He doesn’t give you time to speak as he pushes you against the wall of the alley and places his lips on yours. You melt into the kiss and can’t help but let out a chuckle when he finally pulls away. “Well, somebody’s jealous,” you tease.

“Sorry I’m protective over the things I love,” he says in a playfully serious tone. You grab one of his hands and intertwine your fingers, moving your other hand to cup his cheek and pull him back in for another kiss. One turns into two and soon you’re making out, completely lost in the feeling of him.

When air becomes a necessity, you rest your forehead against his. After a few moments of silence you say, “You know that that wouldn’t be a problem if we just told them we were dating.”

“Uh, did you guys think we didn’t already know?” Romeo calls from a few feet away. You and Race turn to see most of the boys at the entrance to the alley and you can’t contain your laugh. Most of them have their arms crossed and a fake stern look on their faces.

“Yeah, we were just trying to find out if we were right,” Albert calls from next to him, “Pay up Rome, I was right.”

“Hey, I said they were dating, you were the one who said they weren’t!”

“No, you said that you could get (Y/N) to go on a date with you as proof they weren’t. You not only got turned down, they were already dating, so pay up.”

You left them squabbling and walked with Race back into the restaurant. “Dessert on me?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, you’ll have to ask my boyfriend, he’s really protective of me apparently.”

“Well damn, I guess I’ll have to be careful then,” he shoots you a smile and grabs a table, ordering a small piece of cake to share. “He’s definitely lucky to have you.”

[races-erster]

Say Something (Race x Reader)

4: “Walk out that door and we’re through.”

5: “Well, yell, scream, say something. Anything”

 Requested by: @ben-cook-can-cook

Warnings: mild swearing, shitty writing??

Word Count: 826

--

“I cannot believe you!” You yelled at your boyfriend as Jack hurriedly ushered all of the boys out of the room. “I can’t believe you’re upset with me when I do exactly what you do in order to sell my papes!” you yell again, this time taking a step closer to him.

You glared at your normally calm and happy boyfriend who was now fuming. “You have to be kidding me y/n. You expect me to watch you flirt with guys just so you can sell a pape,” he retorted, also taking a step closer. You were inches apart now. You stared into his bright blue eyes. They were usually filled with joy but now they were filled with pure anger. His fist was clenched around his signature cigar to the point where his knuckles were beginning to turn white and his other hand was running through his blonde hair.

“I watch you flirt with girls every damn day and I say nothing about it and you think that you have the right to tell me how I’m allowed to sell,” you say as you head for the door of the lodging house.

“Where’re you going y/n? You walk out that door and we’re through.”

“I guess we’re through then, Race,” You saw while walking out of the lodging house. After a while of walking tears began to stream down your face and you decided to see if you could stay with Katherine.

--

Race started to get worried when he noticed that you never came back after he went to sleep. He hated how he overreacted; you were right. You had to watch him flirt with girls every single day and he never thought about how that made you feel. If it was anything like how he had felt yesterday, he knew why you always started to act strangely when he was trying to cox some girl into buying a pape.

“You okay, Racer?” The voice behind him jolted him out of his thoughts and he was relieved when he realized it was just Jack.

“Yeah, I’se fine,” Race told him with a depressing tone in his voice.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’se sure she’ll be at the circulation gate and you can tell her that you’se sorry,” Jack told him reassuringly. Race started to believe him, but as they got to the gate, you were nowhere to found

--

It had been three days since you had left the lodging house. Katherine was nice enough to let you stay with her until you were ready to go back. She also let you wear one of her dresses since you were going Jacobi’s for lunch.

“Do you know when you’re going back to the lodging house? I’m trying to get rid of you or anything, but I’m sure all of the boys are worried,” Katherine said as the two of you walked into Jacobi’s.

“I have no idea, Kath. Whenever I feel like everything’s blown over I guess,” you said, visibly upset with yourself. Katherine slightly nudged you to get your attention because Jacobi was walking over to you.

“Hello, y/n, Katherine. Would you like anything?”

“Just two waters, please,” Katherine told him as you went farther into the deli. Suddenly all eyes were on you and you were engulfed by hugs from all of the boys.

“Y/n, where the hell have you been?” Jack asked you with a mix of anger and concern in his voice.

“I needed to get away, so I stayed with Katherine for a little bit.”

The only person who didn’t come over to you was Race. He seemed to be afraid to, but it seems he finally worked up the courage. “Y/n, can I talk to ya outside for second?” he asked you sheepishly.

“Sure.”

Once you two were outside Race only stared at you. “Well, yell, scream, say something,” you said with venom laced through your voice. He was taken aback by the harshness in your voice. “Anything.” Suddenly, you felt his hands wrap around your waist and his lips were on yours. After what seemed like forever, or maybe just a few minutes, he pulled away.

“I’s sorry. I was being an ass and I should of thought about how you felt when I was flirtin’ with all of them girls and I didn’t an I just, I’s really sorry,” he said his apology so quickly it was almost one word.

“It’s okay, Racer,” you say bringing him in for another kiss.

All of a sudden you both heard a small voice behind you, “Guys!” Both you and Race laughed at Les’s shocked expression and watched him run back in to tell Jack and Davey what he saw.

“I love you, y/n,” Race said while tapping your nose, which caused you to laugh.

“I love you too, Racer.”

[movedtosalamoonder]

Edge of a Knife ~ An SI-5 Fanfic [ch. 1]

Kepler, would you T U R N O F F T H E C O U N T R Y M U S I C already??

Wordcount: 4k

Genre: Angst, slowburn, prequel/origin story

Warnings: Past self harm, scars

A/N: Just so y’all know, this fic will, in the future, involve Kepcobi. NON-IDEALIZED Kepcobi. It’s very important to me that they not be romanticized, since their in show relationship is so unhealthy. So future warning for unhealthy relationship.

Prologue | Chapter Two | Chapter Three || Masterpost || || Read it on AO3

It starts the moment they pull out of Maxwell’s driveway. The incessant, insistent, clamoring hell that the rest of the world calls country music.

Jacobi groans and slouches so low in his seat that he can barely see the road. He pictures the dashboard rising up his line of sight as a wave of oil, ready to drown him and pull him into the merciful, peaceful, quiet black void of death.

Kepler takes his eyes off the road for a minute to grin down at his weapons expert-though he’s careful to do so while Jacobi is looking away.

“Mr. Jacobi...is it really all that bad?” he says, in a tone that does nothing to betray his expression.

“Yes…” Jacobi whines. “Country is, like, the audible embodiment of being slowly crushed to death by a thousand tractors driven by people wearing infinite layers of plaid flannel and camouflage while it rains cheap beer.”

“An accurate summation of the experience, Jacobi. Kepler, are you trying to kill us? We’re not even on the highway yet. At first I thought it was a practical joke, but practical jokes aren’t supposed to do you any permanent physical harm.”

“What...permanent physical harm is this delightful music causing you, Maxwell?”

“In another two minutes my ears will start hemorrhaging,” Maxwell deadpans. Kepler just chuckles.

“Please, sir. I’ll do anything.”

Kepler raises an eyebrow at him. “Anything, Mr. Jacobi?”

“Oh, no, not this,” says Maxwell, curling into a ball around her phone, which she was presumably programming to make coffee or blow up the white house. “Anything but this. I’ll take the country music over you two flirting.”

Jacobi colors significantly. “We’re not flirting, Lana.”

“Suuuure you aren’t.”

Kepler huffs, offended-though by him or Maxwell, Jacobi can’t tell. He decides not to ask.

“Tell you what, Maxwell. I’ll let you pick the music for the rest of the trip-hell, you can even make a playlist-and in return, I get to tell Mr. Jacobi whatever I want-without complaint from you.”

Jacobi glances back at his best friend for a moment, forgetting the torturous country music. Maxwell looks almost pained. Her nose is scrunched and she’s biting her lip, hard-she looks like a confused rabbit.

“Do we have a deal.” says Kepler. It’s definitely a statement; even in banter he retains his authority. Jacobi shivers.

“I-can I use Spotify Premium?”

The corner of Kepler’s mouth twitches. “Done.”

“Great.” Maxwell immediately pops a pair of earbuds in and continues scrolling through her phone.

“You had those this whole time and didn’t use them?” Jacobi asks, exasperated. Maxwell shrugs. “ ‘S more fun to make fun of Kepler’s terrible taste-”

“Hey!”

“-which will soon be corrected,” she finishes smoothly. “But you’re on your own now, at least until I build the most epic road trip playlist ever heard by humankind.” She winks. “You’re on your own with the Colonel for a while, unfortunately.”

The next chunk of time-Jacobi feels it like hours, but he knows it’s probably minutes-is kind of odd. He’s not used to not having anything to do, and Jacobi is not a patient man (at least not in the sense that most people mean when they say “patient”). Math, and working with his hands, those he’s good at. One step flows into another over and over, all with an end goal, and there’s no biding your time waiting for dough to rise or for-for mice to warm up to each other, as is the case with some of Maxwell’s hobbies. There’s no staring into the distance or trailing your hand in the windstream. There’s none of this...idleness.

In all honesty Jacobi will probably been fine if someone just gives him something to do-like tallying the number of Toyotas from before 2008 that they pass. Stakeouts are never really a problem for him either, as long as he has someone or something to keep an eye on. It’s-Jacobi swears quietly as he realizes-it’s not having anywhere to look.

Not having anywhere to look, that is, besides Colonel Warren James Kepler.

He’s still glowing in the light of his recent promotion, and even though Jacobi can tell he’s definitely not happy with this particular assignment, there’s something about the tension lining his shoulders and the clench of his jaw that makes him all the more attractive. The rigidity of his body is a framework, a skeletal building structure, and Jacobi is stuck through with support beams. He can’t move his gaze or they’ll collapse and fall away.

He wriggles his shoulders, trying to make the beams align just right, so he can look away without them falling.

He can’t.

Jacobi settles for staring at the gearshift, but his eyes are mostly on Kepler’s hand resting lazily beside it, fingers spread, tarnished college ring shoved over his middle finger. The support beams tilt.

“Jacobi. You alright?”

He nearly jumps-nearly betrays himself. “Fine, sir.”

It only takes him a second to realize his inconsistency. “Besides this hell music, I mean.”

Kepler raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Maxwell taps at his shoulder. “Hey. Danny. What do you think, Kansas first or Toto?”

“Kansas or-Maxwell, what are you doing?”

She tips one shoulder in a half shrug and leans her head against it, and her hair sweeps over the back of her jacket, too broad in the shoulders as always. “Making a playlist, duh. I always felt that Kansas and Toto should be next to each other but I can never decide how.”

“Well-” he’s a little thrown that she want his opinion on this- “uh, which one-which one sounds good next to the other?”

Maxwell slides her tongue over teeth in concentration. “It’s not about that really, I just want the words to look nice.”

“But you’re going to be hearing the playlist.”

“Well, yeah. But it needs to be written out, doesn’t it?”

“I...I guess? Sure? Wait, why?”

Maxwell rolls her eyes. “It just does, Jacobi. The numbers have to be right and the artists have to look good together and the number of words in the title of each song have to vary right.”

Jacobi blinks. “What?”

“Can I make it any clearer?”

Kepler chuckles softly. Jacobi ignores him.

“Waaait...is this...is this some weird coder thing?”

Maxwell huffs a sigh in his face. Her breath smells like the tiny hospitality mints that haunt Kepler’s office-Jacobi knows because he and Lana are the only two people who ever take them. For anyone else, he suspects, it must feel like snatching a piece of treasure out from under a jealous dragon. At least, it must while Kepler is looking at you with that disarming smile, his (fake) military jacket just barely tight enough for the muscles in his arms to show, worn like armor, like a comfortable shell. He belongs in that uniform, but he’s important enough to add his own piece of it to fit his tastes, not even necessarily because he wants to but because walking past all the senior officers and watching them actively not mention it is a display of power, of-

“Jacobi. Are you listening at all?”

“Hmm?”

“I said it’s not some weird coder thing, how would you like it if I explained every one of your many idiosyncrasies by asking if it was ‘some weird bomber thing’.”

“Demolitions expert.” Jacobi muttered.

“Whatever! Just help me decide what to put first.”

Alana Maxwell is many things. Annoyingly organized, for one, Jacobi thinks as he swipes her playlist into random order, hoping she’ll like it better than the last one he tried.

She’s his sister, too, though, and sisters are supposed to be annoying. Something would be wrong if she didn’t try to tease the crap out of him every moment they were together. It’s one of the ways he knows she’s in a bad mood.

She….she kind of looks it now, come to think of it. It’s been quite a few miles since she’s come up with anything scathing to say about his song selection, instead answering with a bored “nope” and a sigh. He’s finding it easier to think, now that he has something to do besides look at his entirely too attractive commanding officer.

He catches her, looking up between songs, running her fingernails along the top of her thigh in a smooth, predictable motion, not quite intense enough to be itching, not quite light enough to be casual fidgeting. Her lips tighten when she notices him and she snatches her phone.

“Are you done yet? Also-why, why is Avril Lavigne next to Three Days Grace?”

“I...don’t know who either of those people are. Lana, you okay?”

“Fine.”

“I told you to pack shorts.”

“They were all in the wash,” she says, avoiding his eyes.

“Lana, really? All of them? It must be a hundred degrees out here. And you say I don’t know how to pack. What were you thinki-”

Her glare cuts him off as she mouths “shut up”. He gives her a look, but mouths “alright, fine”.

Jacobi turns back to face the road, uncomfortably aware that Kepler is staring at him and not a little concerned that he’s going to run them off the road. “Colonel, can we stop at a gas station? I have to go to the bathroom.”

“...Sure, Jacobi.”

He can hear a hint of curiosity in the usually flat drawl but doesn’t speak to it. Lana has her secrets. And if Kepler makes her drag them into the light of day Jacobi will punch him right in his perfect face.

They’re passing the airport now. Jacobi glares out his window at each plane, the searing hot sound of each takeoff nestling into his ears and making him restless. Why they couldn’t just fly to California he’d never know, and Kepler didn’t seem about to tell him.

Probably some stupid team building exercise.

They pull into the nearest 7-11 once the worst of the traffic is past them. Kepler immediately starts tapping his fingers against the wheel, which Jacobi takes to mean “if you won’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll just be very, very impatient.” He gets out of the car fast, grabs his backpack because he has a feeling he might need it, and taps a hand on the back of his seat-a small, but unmistakable, invite to Maxwell.

The inside of the gas station is dark and very faintly blue after the persistent sun outside. Alana’s footsteps are reluctant. Jacobi can hear the jarring scrape as the soles of her sneakers drag against the linoleum. He doesn’t say anything until they’re over by the slushies-the only other person in the building is a half asleep teen with about six eyebrow piercings but Lana needs space. More space than this, but it’s the best he can do.

He’s beginning to fill a cup with blue raspberry when he feels her forehead against his back, thudding into him in concert with a soft “ugh”.

“Hello,” he says casually.

“Jacobiiiii.”

“That’s my name.”

He reaches for a lid, hunts around with his eyes for the little scoop-y straws. Ah. There they are.

For a second he thinks she’s about to say something important, but instead- “You know I hate blue raspberry.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “This is for me. Next one’s cherry.”

Kepler’s Pina Colada is nearly full before she actually says anything with any weight.

“I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Don’t like being in a car, with other people, without-without having-”

“Without being in complete control? You are a bit of a control freak, Lana.”

She punches his shoulder, nearly causing him to spill Kepler’s slushie. “Shut up.”

“Hey! Watch it,” he says, but it’s more of a mumble than a demand. He sighs, slow through his nose so Lana doesn’t hear.

“Okay...so...right this instant, what would help?”

“That slushie, for one.” Alana says, scooping it up the counter and sticking the straw in her mouth, gazing at him with faux-Bambi eyes. “It is so hot.”

Jacobi frowns at her. “I still have to pay for that. And you should be wearing something more suited to Florida instead of your New-England-Winter apartment.”

“Fall,” she says around the straw.

“What?”

“New England fall. It’s not that cold.”

Jacobi rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you have any shorts? You’re gonna get heat stroke.”

“I do have shorts. For home.”

“Meaning?”

She won’t look at him. He suspects any further conversation designed to get information out of her will not go over well. He tosses his backpack on the floor between them and takes the cherry slushie from her, balancing it against his chest. “Go change, there’s shorts in my bag.”

Maxwell bites her lip. “I just don’t want Kepler-”

“Relax. He won’t.”

“Fine.”

She takes the bag, eyes downcast, and Jacobi heads over to the register to pay. By the time he’s done Alana is out of the bathroom. His shorts are a little too big for her but they look comfortable enough with her belt, and more importantly they’re long enough that you can’t see her scars. “Help me carry?” he says, and she takes her slushie and continues to drink like nothing’s happened.

“You have to actually help me with the playlist now, instead of just shuffling it around. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

“Fine, Lana, as long as you help me make Kepler stop for lunch.”

“Alright.”

Her tongue is bright red. He resists the urge to smile. His hands are going numb from the slushies, but he barely feels it. It’s a nice contrast to the clinging heat. They walk outside and he starts to open the shotgun door, and then-

“Comfortable, Doctor Maxwell?”

Screw it, Kepler can wait.

“Perfectly,” says Alana, unruffled, but Jacobi slams the shotgun door, holds the backseat door open, and nudges her into the middle seat with his shoulder anyway. He hates Kepler picking on her. He hates that he doesn’t think about anything beyond his own authority and how to get more of it. You know people, you control them. Jacobi’s familiar with the tactic, but damned if anyone is going to twist Lana’s insecurities into a weapon.

“Jacobi-” she protests, but he’s already strapping in.

“C’mon. We’re gonna finish that playlist, kay?”

She pinches her lips together, flings a loose strand of hair over her back. “I’m not a child, you know,” she half whispers, half mouths.

“I know,” he says out loud. Kepler sighs, loudly. Jacobi pretends he doesn’t hear. There’s a few tense moments of unsteady eye contact, and then Lana hands him her phone.

“Fine,” she says, “but this time I get to watch to make sure you’re not as much of an idiot as usual.”

“Works for me,” he says.

They pass the time for a few miles like this, Lana snuggled into Jacobi’s shoulder despite the heat, and ribbing him unmercifully every time he makes a “stupid” choice. Jacobi returns the jabs, but he’s just a bit too tired of Kepler to put his whole heart into them. Finally Maxwell taps Kepler’s shoulder a little too firmly and hands him her phone when his hand appears over the backseat, triumphant. “Done,” she says, and leans over to mess up Jacobi’s hair.

“Ow.”

Kepler turns around, raises an eyebrow. “This is....Maxwell, this playlist is forty hours long.”

“Roughly the time it takes to get from Florida to California, with an extra five hours thrown in for insurance and traffic.” Maxwell beams.

Kepler makes a disgusted face. “Why have I heard of none of these?”

“Because, as I’ve stated before, you have terrible taste.”

He runs a hand across his forehead, glancing between the road and Maxwell’s face in the rearview mirror. “...if you say so, Doctor. Now, is Mr. Jacobi going to come back up here or are the two of you going to spend the entire drive from here to California sniggering like a couple of two year olds?”

“Why?” asks Jacobi, momentarily emboldened. “Jealous, sir?”

“I-jealousy is not an emotion that I am capable of having, Mr. Jacobi, sir.”

Lana sniggers. Jacobi tries to force the sudden blush from his face.

“And why would that be…?” mutters Jacobi, but he’s fairly certain that his voice is too low for Kepler to hear.

“Sir, can we stop for lunch?” asks Lana brightly. “I’m starved.”

“...of course, Doctor Maxwell. Where...would you like to go.”

“Burger King,” says Maxwell at the same time that Jacobi says “Dairy Queen.”

“Dairy Queen?” Kepler asks, incredulous. “My God, Jacobi, who eats at Dairy Queen? We’re going to Burger King.”

Lana raises an eyebrow mischievously at Jacobi. “Looks like I’m the favorite today.”

“The colonel does not have favorites,” says Jacobi.

“Depends on the day.” says Kepler lightly.

“You do not have favorites!”

Kepler chuckles, but doesn’t add anything more. They pull into the Burger King parking lot and Jacobi practically bolts, relieved to be outside, finally, relieved to feel the heat on his face, even, instead of the artificial tundra of Kepler’s company car (he suspects that Maxwell has somehow reprogrammed the air conditioning).

Maxwell is right behind him, and for a moment the two of them simply bask in the pain-pleasure of stretching out limbs that have been asleep for hours. The joy of getting out of a car after having been in it for at least a half eternity is severely underrated, Jacobi thinks.

It only lasts a moment though. There’s only so much obnoxious yawning Jacobi can do before realizing that Kepler is still in the car.

“Sir?” he calls.

“Coming, Jacobi. Sending a text. You and Maxwell go ahead inside.”

Jacobi quirks an eyebrow at Maxwell, but she just shrugs. Then she grabs his hand and practically drags him inside. “Come on, loser, I’m hungry.”

“Fine, coming...brat…”

He half smiles, while she’s looking at the menu. Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as he thought it would be.

The support beams are still tilting, though. There’s always been something connecting him to Warren Kepler-always-

He’s just not sure if there’s ever been anything connecting Kepler to him.

“ ‘Lana?” he asks, distracted.

“Hmm.”

“Kepler’s still in the car.” He’s looking through the grimy back window at the car. From this angle all he can see is Kepler’s hair, falling over his eyes. That can’t be regulation. Every few seconds he twitches, subconsciously, presumably trying to get his hair out of his eyes. Jacobi wants to smooth it off his forehead, maybe pin it back, give him a haircut, for God’s sake...or, no, honestly he wouldn’t have a problem just holding it out of his eyes. For, like, an hour or two. He could do that.

“Jacobi!” hisses Maxwell. “Could you not be a lovesick idiot for two seconds, maybe?”

“Wh-” Jacobi whips around. She’s dragged him to the front counter-he doesn’t remember that-and a fairly annoyed server asks “And you, sir?” for what is clearly not the first time.

“Uh-I’ll have-” his eyes flit over the menu but don’t take anything in. “Um-”

“Oh for-” Maxwell shoves him aside, none too gently. “He’ll have a number three combo, small Dr. Pepper. Thanks.” She scans her card and grabs the receipt, shoving it, crumpled, into her pocket before Jacobi’s thoughts can rearrange themselves into a sentence.

The server smiles tightly. “Coming right up.” She hands Jacobi a cup and he follows Maxwell, dazed. There’s...something wrong with him.

They sit down in the booth beside the window, close enough to the car that Kepler would’ve easily seen them, had they waved, had he looked up. But neither of those things happen.

Maxwell slides Jacobi’s drink across the table and frowned at him. “So, talk.”

“What?”

She reaches across their table and grabs both of his wrists, tugs him down to the table surface, glares at him. “You. The colonel. Something’s gotta give.”

“I…” Jacob tries, subconsciously, to scrub the blush from his face, but Maxwell still has a tight hold on both his wrists.

“Jacobi. Either make a move or stop-stop with the, the lovesick puppy act.”

Jacobi blinks. “Wait, I thought you hated it when we-”

“I do! I-” She grunts in frustration. “Jacobi,” she growls. “You’re too indecisive.”

He grins at her. “Aww, you do ship us.”

“So you admit it? You like Kepler?” Maxwell says quickly, in a clumsy attempt to regain her lead.

“You can’t one up me here, you just openly admitted that, while thinking on the idea of me and the colonel in a romantic relationship, you get warm and fuzzies?? Hmm?”

Alana rolls her eyes and drawls in a poor imitation of Kepler, “My ace ass ain’t admitting nothing, Mr. Jacobi.”

Jacobi chuckles, caught off guard by how easy it is to laugh when he’s not thinking of Kepler. When it’s not constantly between them. When he’s not thinking of the support beams and how it’s his job to keep them up.

“Mr. Jacobi, would you mind scooting over?”

“Wh-uh, of course, sir.”

Kepler scoots into the booth next to him, slides Maxwell’s and Jacobi’s trays in front of them. Jacobi tries not to looks. It’s weird to see him doing ordinary thing and now he’s caught in the uncomfortableness of not looking too much, not avoiding looking at him, trying to act normal, and shit why is it so hard to act normal around Kepler-

Maxwell catches his eye across the table and winks. He glares at her but can’t come up with a good enough comeback that’s Kepler safe, so he just takes a bite of his burger to have something to do. Maxwell steals a fry off his tray, and he swats her hand away. “You haff ‘ur owf!” he mumble yells at her through a mouthful.

“They taste better stolen,” says Maxwell, deadpan. “Hey, Warren, where’s yours?”

This is a game of theirs, to see how often they can get away with calling Kepler by his first name without having anything thrown at them or being threatened with bodily harm. Maxwell is the undisputed winner.

Kepler shifts, and Jacobi tries not to feel the heat radiating off his body. As if he had any choice. His shoulders roll back, he straightens, looks at Maxwell. “I have fries,” he says, gesturing at a tiny paper bag Jacobi didn’t even notice initially. “You and Jacobi go ahead. I’ll eat for real later.”

Maxwell shrugs. “Okay, sir.”

She swipes another fry from Jacobi’s tray, but this time he’s ready for it. His hand shoots out, catches her wrist, and they engage in a silent arm wrestling game for the fry, trying to smother their giggles in front of the other patrons. Kepler rolls his eyes.

“You two are absolute toddlers,” he says, but there’s the faintest glimmer of fondness in the words.

Maxwell wins, sticks her tongue out at Jacobi. “Sucker,” she purrs.

“Yeah, yeah.” He snatches a fry off of her tray when her back is turned and then nearly chokes trying to stuff it in his mouth, making Kepler snort. He tries to muffle it but Maxwell whips around anyway. “What?” she asks, and Kepler’s snort turns into full on laughter. Jacobi tries to keep a straight face but it’s damn near impossible.

“What?” says Maxwell louder. Jacobi just shakes his head. “Nothing, ‘Lana. Tell you later.”

He notices Kepler’s face twist out of the corner of his eye, but it isn’t from laughter. He glances at him, trying to look like he’s not looking. Kepler bites the corner of his lip and then stuffs a couple of fries in his mouth.

“Colonel, you okay?” asks Jacobi, in what he hopes to be the most nonchalant voice imaginable. There’s a split second of some unidentifiable emotion, directed at him, maybe surprise? And then it’s gone so fast that he’s sure he imagined it.

“Fine, Jacobi. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chapter Two

[salamoonder]

Edge of a Knife | [ch. 1]

Kepler, would you T U R N O F F T H E C O U N T R Y M U S I C already??

Wordcount: 4k

Genre: Angst, slowburn, prequel/origin story

Warnings: Past self harm, scars

A/N: Just so y’all know, this fic will, in the future, involve Kepcobi. NON-IDEALIZED Kepcobi. It’s very important to me that they not be romanticized, since their in show relationship is so unhealthy. So future warning for unhealthy relationship.

Prologue | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterpost || || Read it on AO3 ||

It starts the moment they pull out of Maxwell’s driveway. The incessant, insistent, clamoring hell that the rest of the world calls country music.

Jacobi groans and slouches so low in his seat that he can barely see the road. He pictures the dashboard rising up his line of sight as a wave of oil, ready to drown him and pull him into the merciful, peaceful, quiet black void of death.

Kepler takes his eyes off the road for a minute to grin down at his weapons expert-though he’s careful to do so while Jacobi is looking away.

“Mr. Jacobi…is it really all that bad?” he says, in a tone that does nothing to betray his expression.

“Yes…” Jacobi whines. “Country is, like, the audible embodiment of being slowly crushed to death by a thousand tractors driven by people wearing infinite layers of plaid flannel and camouflage while it rains cheap beer.”

“An accurate summation of the experience, Jacobi. Kepler, are you trying to kill us? We’re not even on the highway yet. At first I thought it was a practical joke, but practical jokes aren’t supposed to do you any permanent physical harm.”

“What…permanent physical harm is this delightful music causing you, Maxwell?”

“In another two minutes my ears will start hemorrhaging,” Maxwell deadpans. Kepler just chuckles.

“Please, sir. I’ll do anything.”

Kepler raises an eyebrow at him. “Anything, Mr. Jacobi?”

“Oh, no, not this,” says Maxwell, curling into a ball around her phone, which she was presumably programming to make coffee or blow up the white house. “Anything but this. I’ll take the country music over you two flirting.”

Jacobi colors significantly. “We’re not flirting, Lana.”

“Suuuure you aren’t.”

Kepler huffs, offended-though by him or Maxwell, Jacobi can’t tell. He decides not to ask.

“Tell you what, Maxwell. I’ll let you pick the music for the rest of the trip-hell, you can even make a playlist-and in return, I get to tell Mr. Jacobi whatever I want-without complaint from you.”

Jacobi glances back at his best friend for a moment, forgetting the torturous country music. Maxwell looks almost pained. Her nose is scrunched and she’s biting her lip, hard-she looks like a confused rabbit.

“Do we have a deal.” says Kepler. It’s definitely a statement; even in banter he retains his authority. Jacobi shivers.

“I-can I use Spotify Premium?”

The corner of Kepler’s mouth twitches. “Done.”

“Great.” Maxwell immediately pops a pair of earbuds in and continues scrolling through her phone.

“You had those this whole time and didn’t use them?” Jacobi asks, exasperated. Maxwell shrugs. “ ‘S more fun to make fun of Kepler’s terrible taste-”

“Hey!”

“-which will soon be corrected,” she finishes smoothly. “But you’re on your own now, at least until I build the most epic road trip playlist ever heard by humankind.” She winks. “You’re on your own with the Colonel for a while, unfortunately.”

The next chunk of time-Jacobi feels it like hours, but he knows it’s probably minutes-is kind of odd. He’s not used to not having anything to do, and Jacobi is not a patient man (at least not in the sense that most people mean when they say “patient”). Math, and working with his hands, those he’s good at. One step flows into another over and over, all with an end goal, and there’s no biding your time waiting for dough to rise or for-for mice to warm up to each other, as is the case with some of Maxwell’s hobbies. There’s no staring into the distance or trailing your hand in the windstream. There’s none of this…idleness.

In all honesty Jacobi will probably been fine if someone just gives him something to do-like tallying the number of Toyotas from before 2008 that they pass. Stakeouts are never really a problem for him either, as long as he has someone or something to keep an eye on. It’s-Jacobi swears quietly as he realizes-it’s not having anywhere to look.

Not having anywhere to look, that is, besides Colonel Warren James Kepler.

He’s still glowing in the light of his recent promotion, and even though Jacobi can tell he’s definitely not happy with this particular assignment, there’s something about the tension lining his shoulders and the clench of his jaw that makes him all the more attractive. The rigidity of his body is a framework, a skeletal building structure, and Jacobi is stuck through with support beams. He can’t move his gaze or they’ll collapse and fall away.

He wriggles his shoulders, trying to make the beams align just right, so he can look away without them falling.

He can’t.

Jacobi settles for staring at the gearshift, but his eyes are mostly on Kepler’s hand resting lazily beside it, fingers spread, tarnished college ring shoved over his middle finger. The support beams tilt.

“Jacobi. You alright?”

He nearly jumps-nearly betrays himself. “Fine, sir.”

It only takes him a second to realize his inconsistency. “Besides this hell music, I mean.”

Kepler raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Maxwell taps at his shoulder. “Hey. Danny. What do you think, Kansas first or Toto?”

“Kansas or-Maxwell, what are you doing?”

She tips one shoulder in a half shrug and leans her head against it, and her hair sweeps over the back of her jacket, too broad in the shoulders as always. “Making a playlist, duh. I always felt that Kansas and Toto should be next to each other but I can never decide how.”

“Well-” he’s a little thrown that she want his opinion on this- “uh, which one-which one sounds good next to the other?”

Maxwell slides her tongue over teeth in concentration. “It’s not about that really, I just want the words to look nice.”

“But you’re going to be hearing the playlist.”

“Well, yeah. But it needs to be written out, doesn’t it?”

“I…I guess? Sure? Wait, why?”

Maxwell rolls her eyes. “It just does, Jacobi. The numbers have to be right and the artists have to look good together and the number of words in the title of each song have to vary right.”

Jacobi blinks. “What?”

“Can I make it any clearer?”

Kepler chuckles softly. Jacobi ignores him.

“Waaait…is this…is this some weird coder thing?”

Maxwell huffs a sigh in his face. Her breath smells like the tiny hospitality mints that haunt Kepler’s office-Jacobi knows because he and Lana are the only two people who ever take them. For anyone else, he suspects, it must feel like snatching a piece of treasure out from under a jealous dragon. At least, it must while Kepler is looking at you with that disarming smile, his (fake) military jacket just barely tight enough for the muscles in his arms to show, worn like armor, like a comfortable shell. He belongs in that uniform, but he’s important enough to add his own piece of it to fit his tastes, not even necessarily because he wants to but because walking past all the senior officers and watching them actively not mention it is a display of power, of-

“Jacobi. Are you listening at all?”

“Hmm?”

“I said it’s not some weird coder thing, how would you like it if I explained every one of your many idiosyncrasies by asking if it was ‘some weird bomber thing’.”

“Demolitions expert.” Jacobi muttered.

“Whatever! Just help me decide what to put first.”

Alana Maxwell is many things. Annoyingly organized, for one, Jacobi thinks as he swipes her playlist into random order, hoping she’ll like it better than the last one he tried.

She’s his sister, too, though, and sisters are supposed to be annoying. Something would be wrong if she didn’t try to tease the crap out of him every moment they were together. It’s one of the ways he knows she’s in a bad mood.

She….she kind of looks it now, come to think of it. It’s been quite a few miles since she’s come up with anything scathing to say about his song selection, instead answering with a bored “nope” and a sigh. He’s finding it easier to think, now that he has something to do besides look at his entirely too attractive commanding officer.

He catches her, looking up between songs, running her fingernails along the top of her thigh in a smooth, predictable motion, not quite intense enough to be itching, not quite light enough to be casual fidgeting. Her lips tighten when she notices him and she snatches her phone.

“Are you done yet? Also-why, why is Avril Lavigne next to Three Days Grace?”

“I…don’t know who either of those people are. Lana, you okay?”

“Fine.”

“I told you to pack shorts.”

“They were all in the wash,” she says, avoiding his eyes.

“Lana, really? All of them? It must be a hundred degrees out here. And you say I don’t know how to pack. What were you thinki-”

Her glare cuts him off as she mouths “shut up”. He gives her a look, but mouths “alright, fine”.

Jacobi turns back to face the road, uncomfortably aware that Kepler is staring at him and not a little concerned that he’s going to run them off the road. “Colonel, can we stop at a gas station? I have to go to the bathroom.”

“…Sure, Jacobi.”

He can hear a hint of curiosity in the usually flat drawl but doesn’t speak to it. Lana has her secrets. And if Kepler makes her drag them into the light of day Jacobi will punch him right in his perfect face.

They’re passing the airport now. Jacobi glares out his window at each plane, the searing hot sound of each takeoff nestling into his ears and making him restless. Why they couldn’t just fly to California he’d never know, and Kepler didn’t seem about to tell him.

Probably some stupid team building exercise.

They pull into the nearest 7-11 once the worst of the traffic is past them. Kepler immediately starts tapping his fingers against the wheel, which Jacobi takes to mean “if you won’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll just be very, very impatient.” He gets out of the car fast, grabs his backpack because he has a feeling he might need it, and taps a hand on the back of his seat-a small, but unmistakable, invite to Maxwell.

The inside of the gas station is dark and very faintly blue after the persistent sun outside. Alana’s footsteps are reluctant. Jacobi can hear the jarring scrape as the soles of her sneakers drag against the linoleum. He doesn’t say anything until they’re over by the slushies-the only other person in the building is a half asleep teen with about six eyebrow piercings but Lana needs space. More space than this, but it’s the best he can do.

He’s beginning to fill a cup with blue raspberry when he feels her forehead against his back, thudding into him in concert with a soft “ugh”.

“Hello,” he says casually.

“Jacobiiiii.”

“That’s my name.”

He reaches for a lid, hunts around with his eyes for the little scoop-y straws. Ah. There they are.

For a second he thinks she’s about to say something important, but instead- “You know I hate blue raspberry.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “This is for me. Next one’s cherry.”

Kepler’s Pina Colada is nearly full before she actually says anything with any weight.

“I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Don’t like being in a car, with other people, without-without having-”

“Without being in complete control? You are a bit of a control freak, Lana.”

She punches his shoulder, nearly causing him to spill Kepler’s slushie. “Shut up.”

“Hey! Watch it,” he says, but it’s more of a mumble than a demand. He sighs, slow through his nose so Lana doesn’t hear.

“Okay…so…right this instant, what would help?”

“That slushie, for one.” Alana says, scooping it up the counter and sticking the straw in her mouth, gazing at him with faux-Bambi eyes. “It is so hot.”

Jacobi frowns at her. “I still have to pay for that. And you should be wearing something more suited to Florida instead of your New-England-Winter apartment.”

“Fall,” she says around the straw.

“What?”

“New England fall. It’s not that cold.”

Jacobi rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you have any shorts? You’re gonna get heat stroke.”

“I do have shorts. For home.”

“Meaning?”

She won’t look at him. He suspects any further conversation designed to get information out of her will not go over well. He tosses his backpack on the floor between them and takes the cherry slushie from her, balancing it against his chest. “Go change, there’s shorts in my bag.”

Maxwell bites her lip. “I just don’t want Kepler-”

“Relax. He won’t.”

“Fine.”

She takes the bag, eyes downcast, and Jacobi heads over to the register to pay. By the time he’s done Alana is out of the bathroom. His shorts are a little too big for her but they look comfortable enough with her belt, and more importantly they’re long enough that you can’t see her scars. “Help me carry?” he says, and she takes her slushie and continues to drink like nothing’s happened.

“You have to actually help me with the playlist now, instead of just shuffling it around. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

“Fine, Lana, as long as you help me make Kepler stop for lunch.”

“Alright.”

Her tongue is bright red. He resists the urge to smile. His hands are going numb from the slushies, but he barely feels it. It’s a nice contrast to the clinging heat. They walk outside and he starts to open the shotgun door, and then-

“Comfortable, Doctor Maxwell?”

Screw it, Kepler can wait.

“Perfectly,” says Alana, unruffled, but Jacobi slams the shotgun door, holds the backseat door open, and nudges her into the middle seat with his shoulder anyway. He hates Kepler picking on her. He hates that he doesn’t think about anything beyond his own authority and how to get more of it. You know people, you control them. Jacobi’s familiar with the tactic, but damned if anyone is going to twist Lana’s insecurities into a weapon.

“Jacobi-” she protests, but he’s already strapping in.

“C’mon. We’re gonna finish that playlist, kay?”

She pinches her lips together, flings a loose strand of hair over her back. “I’m not a child, you know,” she half whispers, half mouths.

“I know,” he says out loud. Kepler sighs, loudly. Jacobi pretends he doesn’t hear. There’s a few tense moments of unsteady eye contact, and then Lana hands him her phone.

“Fine,” she says, “but this time I get to watch to make sure you’re not as much of an idiot as usual.”

“Works for me,” he says.

They pass the time for a few miles like this, Lana snuggled into Jacobi’s shoulder despite the heat, and ribbing him unmercifully every time he makes a “stupid” choice. Jacobi returns the jabs, but he’s just a bit too tired of Kepler to put his whole heart into them. Finally Maxwell taps Kepler’s shoulder a little too firmly and hands him her phone when his hand appears over the backseat, triumphant. “Done,” she says, and leans over to mess up Jacobi’s hair.

“Ow.”

Kepler turns around, raises an eyebrow. “This is….Maxwell, this playlist is forty hours long.”

“Roughly the time it takes to get from Florida to California, with an extra five hours thrown in for insurance and traffic.” Maxwell beams.

Kepler makes a disgusted face. “Why have I heard of none of these?”

“Because, as I’ve stated before, you have terrible taste.”

He runs a hand across his forehead, glancing between the road and Maxwell’s face in the rearview mirror. “…if you say so, Doctor. Now, is Mr. Jacobi going to come back up here or are the two of you going to spend the entire drive from here to California sniggering like a couple of two year olds?”

“Why?” asks Jacobi, momentarily emboldened. “Jealous, sir?”

“I-jealousy is not an emotion that I am capable of having, Mr. Jacobi, sir.”

Lana sniggers. Jacobi tries to force the sudden blush from his face.

“And why would that be…?” mutters Jacobi, but he’s fairly certain that his voice is too low for Kepler to hear.

“Sir, can we stop for lunch?” asks Lana brightly. “I’m starved.”

“…of course, Doctor Maxwell. Where…would you like to go.”

“Burger King,” says Maxwell at the same time that Jacobi says “Dairy Queen.”

“Dairy Queen?” Kepler asks, incredulous. “My God, Jacobi, who eats at Dairy Queen? We’re going to Burger King.”

Lana raises an eyebrow mischievously at Jacobi. “Looks like I’m the favorite today.”

“The colonel does not have favorites,” says Jacobi.

“Depends on the day.” says Kepler lightly.

“You do not have favorites!”

Kepler chuckles, but doesn’t add anything more. They pull into the Burger King parking lot and Jacobi practically bolts, relieved to be outside, finally, relieved to feel the heat on his face, even, instead of the artificial tundra of Kepler’s company car (he suspects that Maxwell has somehow reprogrammed the air conditioning).

Maxwell is right behind him, and for a moment the two of them simply bask in the pain-pleasure of stretching out limbs that have been asleep for hours. The joy of getting out of a car after having been in it for at least a half eternity is severely underrated, Jacobi thinks.

It only lasts a moment though. There’s only so much obnoxious yawning Jacobi can do before realizing that Kepler is still in the car.

“Sir?” he calls.

“Coming, Jacobi. Sending a text. You and Maxwell go ahead inside.”

Jacobi quirks an eyebrow at Maxwell, but she just shrugs. Then she grabs his hand and practically drags him inside. “Come on, loser, I’m hungry.”

“Fine, coming…brat…”

He half smiles, while she’s looking at the menu. Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as he thought it would be.

The support beams are still tilting, though. There’s always been something connecting him to Warren Kepler-always-

He’s just not sure if there’s ever been anything connecting Kepler to him.

“ ‘Lana?” he asks, distracted.

“Hmm.”

“Kepler’s still in the car.” He’s looking through the grimy back window at the car. From this angle all he can see is Kepler’s hair, falling over his eyes. That can’t be regulation. Every few seconds he twitches, subconsciously, presumably trying to get his hair out of his eyes. Jacobi wants to smooth it off his forehead, maybe pin it back, give him a haircut, for God’s sake…or, no, honestly he wouldn’t have a problem just holding it out of his eyes. For, like, an hour or two. He could do that.

“Jacobi!” hisses Maxwell. “Could you not be a lovesick idiot for two seconds, maybe?”

“Wh-” Jacobi whips around. She’s dragged him to the front counter-he doesn’t remember that-and a fairly annoyed server asks “And you, sir?” for what is clearly not the first time.

“Uh-I’ll have-” his eyes flit over the menu but don’t take anything in. “Um-”

“Oh for-” Maxwell shoves him aside, none too gently. “He’ll have a number three combo, small Dr. Pepper. Thanks.” She scans her card and grabs the receipt, shoving it, crumpled, into her pocket before Jacobi’s thoughts can rearrange themselves into a sentence.

The server smiles tightly. “Coming right up.” She hands Jacobi a cup and he follows Maxwell, dazed. There’s…something wrong with him.

They sit down in the booth beside the window, close enough to the car that Kepler would’ve easily seen them, had they waved, had he looked up. But neither of those things happen.

Maxwell slides Jacobi’s drink across the table and frowned at him. “So, talk.”

“What?”

She reaches across their table and grabs both of his wrists, tugs him down to the table surface, glares at him. “You. The colonel. Something’s gotta give.”

“I…” Jacob tries, subconsciously, to scrub the blush from his face, but Maxwell still has a tight hold on both his wrists.

“Jacobi. Either make a move or stop-stop with the, the lovesick puppy act.”

Jacobi blinks. “Wait, I thought you hated it when we-”

“I do! I-” She grunts in frustration. “Jacobi,” she growls. “You’re too indecisive.”

He grins at her. “Aww, you do ship us.”

“So you admit it? You like Kepler?” Maxwell says quickly, in a clumsy attempt to regain her lead.

“You can’t one up me here, you just openly admitted that, while thinking on the idea of me and the colonel in a romantic relationship, you get warm and fuzzies?? Hmm?”

Alana rolls her eyes and drawls in a poor imitation of Kepler, “My ace ass ain’t admitting nothing, Mr. Jacobi.”

Jacobi chuckles, caught off guard by how easy it is to laugh when he’s not thinking of Kepler. When it’s not constantly between them. When he’s not thinking of the support beams and how it’s his job to keep them up.

“Mr. Jacobi, would you mind scooting over?”

“Wh-uh, of course, sir.”

Kepler scoots into the booth next to him, slides Maxwell’s and Jacobi’s trays in front of them. Jacobi tries not to looks. It’s weird to see him doing ordinary thing and now he’s caught in the uncomfortableness of not looking too much, not avoiding looking at him, trying to act normal, and shit why is it so hard to act normal around Kepler-

Maxwell catches his eye across the table and winks. He glares at her but can’t come up with a good enough comeback that’s Kepler safe, so he just takes a bite of his burger to have something to do. Maxwell steals a fry off his tray, and he swats her hand away. “You haff ‘ur owf!” he mumble yells at her through a mouthful.

“They taste better stolen,” says Maxwell, deadpan. “Hey, Warren, where’s yours?”

This is a game of theirs, to see how often they can get away with calling Kepler by his first name without having anything thrown at them or being threatened with bodily harm. Maxwell is the undisputed winner.

Kepler shifts, and Jacobi tries not to feel the heat radiating off his body. As if he had any choice. His shoulders roll back, he straightens, looks at Maxwell. “I have fries,” he says, gesturing at a tiny paper bag Jacobi didn’t even notice initially. “You and Jacobi go ahead. I’ll eat for real later.”

Maxwell shrugs. “Okay, sir.”

She swipes another fry from Jacobi’s tray, but this time he’s ready for it. His hand shoots out, catches her wrist, and they engage in a silent arm wrestling game for the fry, trying to smother their giggles in front of the other patrons. Kepler rolls his eyes.

“You two are absolute toddlers,” he says, but there’s the faintest glimmer of fondness in the words.

Maxwell wins, sticks her tongue out at Jacobi. “Sucker,” she purrs.

“Yeah, yeah.” He snatches a fry off of her tray when her back is turned and then nearly chokes trying to stuff it in his mouth, making Kepler snort. He tries to muffle it but Maxwell whips around anyway. “What?” she asks, and Kepler’s snort turns into full on laughter. Jacobi tries to keep a straight face but it’s damn near impossible.

“What?” says Maxwell louder. Jacobi just shakes his head. “Nothing, ‘Lana. Tell you later.”

He notices Kepler’s face twist out of the corner of his eye, but it isn’t from laughter. He glances at him, trying to look like he’s not looking. Kepler bites the corner of his lip and then stuffs a couple of fries in his mouth.

“Colonel, you okay?” asks Jacobi, in what he hopes to be the most nonchalant voice imaginable. There’s a split second of some unidentifiable emotion, directed at him, maybe surprise? And then it’s gone so fast that he’s sure he imagined it.

“Fine, Jacobi. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chapter Two