#he can hear voices downstairs. jack and davey and medda. maybe some others

[noxexistant]

now, consider. jack taking morris’ blankie as revenge for oscar stealing and destroying medda’s book.

it takes him a long time, but he figures it out eventually, that it had to have been oscar that took it. they’d been the only ones outside of the family that had seen it that day.

the next time medda visits the brothers, trying to work through everything and maybe see if oscar’s willing to confess to taking the book, jack goes with her. he calls it a “surprise”, and they both know it won’t go over well - least of all because neither of the brothers deal well with surprises - but medda’s too wrought to really fight it. she knows her boys fighting is inevitable at this point, and she’d rather they at least do it where she can try and mediate.

needless to say, it doesn’t go over well. oscar is furious when he sees medda and jack at his and morris’ hotel suite door, but medda manages to bargain them in to sitting down and talking for a minute or two. morris is as eager as he always is, joining medda on the couch when she invites him over, rocking and chewing his fingers and talking quietly with her. oscar’s occupied with his brother, making sure medda doesn’t say anything to upset him, so jack pretends he needs the bathroom and goes off. and, once again, he sneaks into the brothers’ room and swipes morris’ blankie from the edge of his bed - even more worn now than it had been then.

he doesn’t have a plan. he’s not thinking particularly clearly. he doesn’t even fully understand how much it means to morris or why, to him it’s still just an object, he doesn’t understand HOW significant it is to morris - he assumes morris must’ve grown out of it, at least mostly. he just wants to hurt oscar, desperately. he wants to get revenge for his mama and every awful tear she’d cried over her lost book - revenge for how oscar had shrugged and averted his gaze when medda’d asked about it a minute ago, said he didn’t know anything in that cold tone jack hates so damn much - and he knows the best way, maybe the only way, to hurt oscar is to hurt morris.

when the “conversation” immediately, inevitable, all goes to shit when jack returns, he leaves quickly with medda, not putting up any sort of fight for once. oscar’s shouting and morris is making noises as they’re kicked out, but jack feels some cold, hollow bit of satisfaction, as he leaves with morris’ precious ugly blanket stuffed under his jacket.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F-

Ohohohhoho T/w: Cursing, violence, angy Os, fighting, did I mention violence?

This one got so fucked up, y'all. I'm (kind of) sorry.

‼Warning this is my most graphic one yet‼

‼I am begging you to proceed with caution‼

‼Super graphic stuff has red text warnings before and after‼

Nox I hope you're proud

~

Oscar raises seven kinds of hell. He knows it was Jack. He knows he did it on purpose. And he knows Medda is gonna defend him with all her might.

He doesn't care.

There's nothing stopping him now. Morris is a wreck. He's wailing and screaming and physically sick with not having his blanket. There's nothing Oscar can do to console him. There's nothing more for him to do.

He leads Morris out to the car, has to practically drag him out there. Morris is clinging to a massive bag of sour skittles, he's chewing on the soft flesh in the palm of his hand, he's whimpering and howling and shrieking.

And Oscar's done with it. He's done with Jack Kelly thinking he can do anything he wants and get away with it. "C'mon Mo, we're goin' to see Medda."

That, at least, has an effect on Morris. He's quieted from full blown screeching to loudly sobbing into one of the pillows they kept in the car. Oscar makes sure he's buckled in before he starts driving, knuckles white as he holds tightly to the steering wheel.

He makes the trip in record time. He swerved into a parking spot, throws the door open, and slams it shut. He moves to the other side, helping Morris out before he storms up to the front door, pounding on it.

He's going to drop Morris off here. He wants Medda to see exactly what her precious little Jackie did to his baby brother.

What he doesn't expect is blue-eyed Davey to open the door.

His brows furrow as he recognizes the brothers. "What-"

"Out of the way," Oscar demands, trying to shove past him, eyes searching behind him for Medda.

The boy doesn't budge, frowning at him. "No. Why are you here? What do you want? Jack's-"

"Don't." Oscar snaps at him, and Davey's mouth snaps closed. "Where's Medda?"

Morris's hand finds the back of Oscar's shirt, tangling in it as he tries-and fails- to control his sobbing.

Davey turns to call for Medda over his shoulder, though he still doesn't step out of the way.

Medda emerges from the kitchen, smile on her face as she starts talking without looking up.

The smile falls as soon as she takes in the scene.

She hustles over, waving Davey out of the way, and ushering her boys in. She looks them over, checking for any physical damage. She tries to reach out for Morris, but he cries out, and Oscar moves in seconds, hand gripping her wrist to stop her. "Don't."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Davey scoffs from his spot across the room, indignant that they're treating her this way when she's just let them into her home.

Oscar turns a searing stare on him. The kind of look that-if looks could kill- would've had Davey gone six times over.

"You'd better shut your trap. Lucky I ain't already broke your nose and busted your teeth," Oscar snarls at him. "It's your boy's fault this is happening in the first place."

"My boy- you mean Jack?" Davey asks, almost a laugh in his voice.

"Think somethin's funny?!" Oscar jumps to his feet, lunging for Davey, but Medda takes him by the arm, holding him just out of reach.

He turns to her with an incredulous look on his face, but she just shakes her head. "Oscar, you know you can't stay if you're going to fight."

He swallows hard around the heat rising in his throat. He has to stay complacent. He has to take every hit to his pride so Morris can be safe.

He chokes on it.

Oscar shakes his head, yanking his arm away from her. "Take care o' Mo."

(It's about to get hella graphic plz be careful. I'm gonna put more red text at the end of the graphic stuff)

He storms out, going to the car, trying to ignore the wailing and weeping he can hear, even from outside.

Davey's suddenly beside him, hand on his arm, saying... something. Oscar can't hear it past the roaring in his ears. He can't find it in himself to care enough to listen.

He slams his head against Davey's, watching with dim satisfaction as he crumples to the ground. Oscar digs through his pockets, pulling out his wallet, finding his license. He punches the address into his gps, tossing the card back down as Davey stirs.

He climbs back into his car, and heads off.

He finds their house with relative ease. He marches up to the door, banging wildly on it, demanding to be let in.

The door swings open, revealing the man of the hour.

Jack Kelly

Oscar doesn't even wait for him to say anything before he pounces, both of the men crashing to the ground. Oscar has him pinned before Jack can do much of anything, and just starts whaling on him.

He doesn't think. He can't think. There's too much in him. Too many emotions. Too much anger that he's always just pushed down for Morris's sake. But, Morris isn't here.

Jack finds an opening enough to shove him off, and he tries to pin Oscar, but he isn't as practiced.

Oscar stands, chest heaving with his breaths as he kicks Jack down again. "Where is it?"

Jack is struggling to breathe, and Oscar can see it in the way he's moving and wheezing and struggling to stand. "Where's Mo's blanket?"

Jack staggers to his feet, breaths still coming out in wheezes. He glares at Oscar, trying to comprehend just what was being asked of him. He's seriously doing this over that fucking blanket? Nothing's changed. It's been almost two decades since they lived under the same roof, and Oscar Delancey hasn't changed one bit.

(This is the end of the super graphic stuff. There's mention of it further down, but nothing like what's between the red)

Still, he knows first hand that Oscar won't stop until he gets what he's looking for. Jack nods, holding tightly to his aching ribs, and disappears into the hall, leaving Oscar standing in the foyer alone.

Jack gets back quickly, throwing the blanket at Oscar-stupid ratty thing was worthless anyhow. "There. Now, get out."

Oscar holds tightly to the blanket, checking it over for damage. At least, more damage than it had had before. "You got a lotta nerve comin' to our house and takin' Mo's stuff. Him ain' done nothin' to you."

Jack has the audacity to laugh. Face beaten and bloodied, and he laughs?!

Oscar steps forward again, taking a sick sort of satisfaction in the way Jack cowers away from him.

"It's just a stupid blanket!" Jack huffs out, leaning against the wall. "What the hell does it matter if I have it or not?!"

"It ain't yours. That's what matters 'bout it. You don't get to do whatever you want," Oscar sneers, clutching the blanket tighter to his chest as he starts for the door. "Oh, and Kelly?"

Jack raises a brow, a soft "Hm?" escaping him.

"If you ever even think of hurting my little brother again, you gonna lose everyone you care about." He slammed the door closed behind him, going back for the car.

The drive back to Medda's, Oscar thinks over everything that had happened. His stomach sinks at the thought of what he might find when he gets back. Morris clawing and hitting and trying to find him. He isn't sure what he'll be like when he gets there. They've never been apart longer than a few minutes. And here he is, storming off. He's no better than the adults they grew up with, letting his anger take over and control him.

He's such an idiot.

He pulls back into his parking spot, Davey long gone from the sidewalk. He takes the blanket in his arms and makes his way to the door once more. He knocks, much softer than before, eyes welling with tears that he tries to hide when the door swings open again.

Medda pulls him in, wrapping her arms around him, one hand patting his back, the other curled securely around the back of his head. He gives a half-hearted attempt to push her away, though he ends up just sobbing against her chest for a moment. When he realizes Davey is sitting just across the room, he does pull away, wiping at his eyes.

"Where's Mo?" he croaks, and Medda gives him a small smile, patting his cheek.

"He's in your room, dear."

Oscar frowns at her. "He's... what?"

She leads him down the hall, to the very last door on the left, and opens it for him.

To say that Oscar is floored would be an understatement.

It's exactly like he remembers. Right down to the blue walls with the little daisies painted on them.

But

"Why?"

"I told you before you left, hun." Medda ruffles his hair, a show of affection she knows she may never get to do again. One she knows she's only getting to do now because both brothers are too vulnerable to deny. That Oscar doesn't have the energy left for a fit about being touched or doted on or pitied. "My kids always have a home here."

Oscar almost can't move. He's too overwhelmed by the thought that she'd kept it exactly how he'd left it.

And then, his eyes land on the sleeping form on the bed, and he crosses the threshold.

Medda closes the door behind him, and Morris whines as Oscar climbs into bed next to him. He tucks the blanket under Morris's arm, and kisses his head.

"Sorry, Mo... I had to get your blanket."