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more-sonorous · 29 days ago

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what i want to be (javey)

continuation of my transmasc canon era davey oneshot! because he is so near and dear to my heart.

tw/ for a little bit of blood and a lot a bit of davey thinking mean things about himself (and a lot a bit of jack saying nice things in return)

.....

David was not an idiot.

Or at least he tried not to be an idiot, but he found himself failing at doing so more and more as time passed.

In his defense, it had been a rotten week. Sarah’s October birthday always reminded David of how much his parents favored his siblings over him, to put it bluntly. How could they not? Les and Sarah were golden children. Friendly social butterflies with gorgeous smiles and dimples, each with their own quirks, but nothing truly and debilitatingly strange. Not like David, who was too loud and curious as a child and too quiet and withdrawn as an adolescent, too opinionated, too awkward, with his trouble understanding expressions and tones of voice and his hatred for the skirts and dresses and pretty hairdos his mother always tried on him. Not what his parents expected from their middle child, surely.

In a little over a month, David would turn eighteen. November. A bleak month already, but even bleaker when his birthday celebrations were compared to Sarah’s. They always had a small little party for all of Sarah’s friends, and Sarah would get a gift especially from Aba because it was no secret that she was the child he favored most. They always ranted about politics together and seemed to understand one another on a higher level-- even though Sarah denied it to David, it was no secret she was her father's child and she loved him deeply for it. Ima always gave her a present as well, usually a specially tailored dress or new blouse and skirt, because Ima loved to sew. For Sarah’s nineteenth birthday last year she’d received a real and true set of petticoats with lace and trimmings, a matter that had her pleasantly thrilled for weeks.

David, on the other hand, received a combined present from both of his parents on account of money being rather tight around Hanukkah, and David never really liking any of the girlish things they bought him. He didn’t want new skirts or lace cuffs, and his father was awful at buying special little gifts for him. Mayer knew the brooches and political pamphlets and trinkets Sarah would enjoy, but he never seemed to understand David’s taste. It was fine. There was no house party, since David had no close friends to invite to such a thing. He’d always been too strange or odd for the other schoolchildren, and friendless-ness was something he’d learned to live with. Ima would make him rugelach and kiss him on the forehead in the morning, his father would hug him briefly and sincerely, and they’d let him have the day to himself to read or go walking or really do whatever he pleased in the solitude he’d convinced himself to prefer. Though he’d never dare complain, David hated his birthday.

He hated comparing his birthday to Les and Sarah’s birthdays (Les was absolutely the darling of the family by far– he received the most gifts and celebration but it wasn’t quite fair to compare, since he was so much younger and meant to be spoilt while still a child) because it forced him to acknowledge how lackluster he was in comparison to his siblings.

David still loved them, of course, but birthdays were the reason October put him in a constant state of melancholy.

The week in general had been horrible, what with Sarah’s birthday celebration and all of her presents and the love Aba showered her in. David’s depressive mood had thrown him out of his careful routine, and he found himself snapping at his family and the newsboys more often, much to his own embarrassment. He was close to breaking and maybe that was the reason why he was such a stupid idiot when he left the house that morning.

David kept meticulous track of his cycles every month. Three days before he was due to start, he always began wearing cotton padding just in case. He’d never encountered any problems and he was typically able to hide his cramping and irritability behind facades of general fatigue and teasing jabs that hit a little bit too hard.

That October morning, however, he made a very idiotic decision. Maybe it was because Sarah was admiring the socialist manifesto their father had bought her with the happiest eyes David had ever seen, or because Les refused to get out of bed and dress himself, but David did not put his cotton padding on. He was due to start in three days, after all, and he didn’t typically start early. They were in a rush. He was agitated and upset and feeling more worthless than usual. So he was an idiot about it.

“David.” Les hissed, tugging on his arm as they walked back towards the lodging house with Jack, arms free of papers and pockets a bit heavier with their daily earnings. He tugged again, stumbling along and whisper-grumbling like he didn’t want Jack to hear. “David.”

“What?” He snapped, coming to a halt and curling his hands into fists. He’d been feeling cruddy all day and Les begging him to buy a candy or stare into a shop window was the last thing he needed. David and Jack had been walking side by side in companionable silence, two of Jack’s fingers caught in the loop of David’s belt. He was very preoccupied with enjoying the way their hips and arms brushed together as they walked, and he did not have the time, energy, or patience to deal with any Leshem Jacobs shenanigans.

Jack strolled to a halt as well, arms crossed loosely and brow furrowed in confusion. Les’s wide, brown eyes glanced between David and Jack, and he worried his bottom lip anxiously.

“What?” David tried again, through gritted teeth this time.

His little brother tugged him down by the tie, until he stumbled into a crouch. Les was at the perfect height to cup his hands around his own mouth and lean in to press himself close to David, whispering right up in his ear. David tried to flare his own agitation as he caught his balance, hoping and praying that Les wasn’t about to ask him to play some stupid prank on Jack.

Les’s voice was hardly even audible, a barely-there whisper that somehow carried notes of anxiety within it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where?” He rolled his eyes and checked his palms for any sort of cut– but Les was very serious as he tugged on David’s pant leg. David raised an eyebrow, getting awfully tired of repeating himself. “Where, Leshem?”

“You know.” His little brother whispered pointedly, dark eyebrows raised and face creased with worry. “Down… um… down there.”

A moment of confusion passed before horror took over completely, spawning a tight sort of panic that made David feel tense from the soles of his feet to his shoulders. He wasn’t due for at least three days but apparently this was happening there and then and oh, God, a subtle glance down proved that Les was right. His gray trousers were darkened just between his legs and somehow he hadn’t noticed– probably too distracted by Jack.

Jack.

This could not be happening in front of Jack. The panic really began to set in and David thanked God above that he hadn’t tied his bandages too tightly because he could feel his breathing picking up already. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been an idiot and left all of his padding at the apartment, and Jack was right there and he could notice at any minute and then David’s entire life would be over, and he spiraled into a frenzy as he jolted to his feet and grabbed Les tightly by the collar.

“Les and I have to go home now.” He snapped at Jack, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“What?” Jack’s confused expression only got more confused as he stared at the brothers. David knew he and Les’s panicked expressions were almost laughably similar because their faces got red and their eyes got very big, but even Jack didn’t seem to think that this was a laughing matter. “Hey, what in the world is goin’ on? Way to leave a guy out of the loop–”

“Sorry, Jack, have a nice day. I hope the poker tournament at the lodging house goes well! See you tomorrow!

Determined to flee as quickly as possible, David grabbed Les by the suspenders and steered him forward, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Of course, Jack was a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be, and he jogged right up to Davey’s side. “Davey, what the hell?”

“I forgot we have… um… chores.”

Even Les rolled his eyes at David’s horrible lying abilities as Jack raised both of his perfect eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna try that again?”

“No. I want you to turn around right now and go back to the Lodging House and pretend like this didn’t happen.” He gritted out, eyes plastered directly forward and tone clipped. David’s anxiety was cutting into the typical irritability he felt during this hellish week, when his own body betrayed him and reminded him that he’d never be who he wanted to be.

“Excuse me?” Jack laughed almost incredulously, mouth dropping open.

“You’re excused.” David snarled, trying to show Jack that he meant to be taken seriously and praying that his anxiety didn’t come across as obviously as he felt it. His fingers were trembling around his brother and now he could feel the uncomfortable dampness between his legs, ever-present and taunting. "Now go away.

“You ain’t doin’ yourself any fuckin’ favors, Davey, you’re only scarin’ me more–”

He couldn’t stop a noise of frustration from bubbling up. “Jack, when are you ever going to learn how to take a hint? Everything is fine, but we need to go home right now. So leave me alone. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

David took the opportunity to shove Les through a tightly packed group of pedestrians, trying not to cringe at all of the strangers shoving and bumping against him. He felt about an inch or two away from retching all over the sidewalk as he tried to lose Jack in the throng of people, Les taking his hand and wordlessly speeding up their pace. David could scarcely breathe as they rounded the corner, clutching onto his little brother’s hand like a lifeline. This was bad. It was really bad, bordering on horrible, because Jack would be upset with him in the morning. But at least there was one good sign– Jack never chased after anyone except for Katherine. He was too comfortable with himself, too confident to go running after other people. Only her, and he loved her religiously. David felt a sick sort of happiness as he acknowledged the fact that Jack didn’t care for him in any manner other than a fleeting surface level friendship. He cradled that reassurance close to his chest as he and Les shouldered past other pedestrians, weaving through the most complicated path possible. He’d pretty much convinced himself that they were in the clear when a thickly accented voice cut through the space behind them.

“Davey– que carajo, Dave can you just– is that blood? Jesus fuckin’ Christ are you bleeding?” Rough arms grabbed him by the shoulders and David’s heart practically stopped in his chest as he wheeled around to face Jack, who had defied all logic and chased them through the crowds. Panicked honey-brown eyes stared down, down there, and Davey seized up like a stopped clock, no ticking in his brain or chest or heart. He wanted to freeze, melt, die, maybe. “Are you hurt– what happened– hold on a second– you– you– oh.”

Then Jack’s eyes got big and flicked right up to meet David’s. Maybe it was because he’d been feeling lethargic and sick and pained all day, maybe it was his previously sour mood, maybe it was the fact that the understanding dawning on Jack’s face was the most sickening thing David had ever seen– but his bottom lip was already wobbling as he shoved the other boy away. “Just– just don’t.”

If he ever thought he had a chance with Jack, his hopes were crushed and crumbled into nothing now. His eyes were stinging and he could barely breathe as he squeezed Les’s hand tight and turned on his heel, stumbling into a nearby alleyway. Remarkably, Jack was still on his tail and Davey had no idea how to explain this sudden annoying pursuit, other than the fact that Jack wanted to beat the shit out of him and he just couldn’t let that happen in front of Les.

“Davey, Davey would you just slow down for one goddamn second–”

“Les,” David choked out through tears, “Would you wait by the lamppost for me?”

“But–”

He was already pushing the younger boy towards the aforementioned lamppost, trying his very hardest not to cry. “We'll just be a second.”

Then, steeling himself up for the worst soaking of his life, he marched resolutely into the alleyway and parked himself, standing straight and tall. Then Jack rounded the corner looking incredibly concerned and all of David’s half-assed plans to remain resilient and tough as the person he considered to be his best friend tore him apart all fell to shit. He was crying before he could stop himself.

“P– can you just wait to do this when my little brother isn’t with me? I can’t– I don’t want him to see me losing a fight.” He sobbed, the very idea of Les having to walk him home all battered and bruised by Jack’s hands absolutely tearing him apart. “Please. I w- I won’t ever step foot in the circulation yard again, Jack, I just– I really– I’m begging you not to, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had to watch you h- hit–”

“Watch me– God, Davey, oh my God, you think I want to hurt you?” Jack breathed, a look of unbridled terror taking over his gorgeous face. “Oh, Dave, Davey-mine, God, no. Mierda.”

Within moments, Jack was gathering him up into a tight hug, almost trembling with forced gentleness. David had no earthly clue what was happening, but he tucked his nose into Jack’s shoulder and let tears streak his cheeks as he breathed in the smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. The calloused fingers of one tanned hand threaded through David’s curls. “You just– it’s what anyone would–”

“Let’s shut this shit down right now, ‘cause I would never lay a hand on you. Never. Do you understand me?” He’d never heard Jack’s voice so firm and simultaneously anxious at the same time, and it wrenched a guttural little noise from him. Then Jack’s hands were cupping his cheeks and he stared at those resolute brown eyes, wanting to melt away and hide forever. “Davey. I need ta’ hear you say it. If I had to choose between dyin’ and hurtin’ you then I’m dead, do you get that?”

“But–” His chest shook and he squeezed Jack’s wrists almost desperately. “You know why I’m bleeding, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I gathered that much but I– fuck, I’m just surprised, cariño, not angry. I don’ think I’ve ever been that angry with you. I mean– you know a guy for four months, and this ain’t exactly the shit you expect to find out about him. A’course, that don’t mean it ain’t okay with me, it just… caught me off guard.” Jack dragged one of his rough thumbs over David’s cheekbone and he felt that same sense of ridiculous awe and relief all over again, just like he had in that alleyway with Race back in August. “I ain’t ever gonna lay a finger on you. Understood? David. Come on and tell me you understand, cielito.”

“I understand.” His words warbled with emotion.

Jack just looked at him like he was seeing right through his eyes and straight into his soul. David wanted to scream. “Good. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.”

David couldn’t handle it. He was just too homosexual. Too goddamn homosexual to stare into Jack’s understanding brown eyes and feel his warm touch, too goddamn homosexual to believe the fact that Jack was standing here accepting him, not wanting to pummel the life out of him but instead aching to comfort him. He pulled himself out of Jack’s grasp and rubbed his hands over his face, tension making his shoulders hurt with rigidity.

Anxious footsteps carefully trailed behind him. “Davey?”

“You’re not… this isn’t how you’re supposed to react.” He whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. “You’re supposed to be angry.”

“Why’s that? Because some stupid rich folk and the stupid rules they created want me to be angry? Bullshit.” Jack reached for him, obviously wanting to touch, and David shrugged him off nearly instantly. He couldn’t take it.

“Not just that. I’ve been lying to you. And… and the fact that you’re accepting it and not trying to put me in my place is just going to make it worse.” He whispered, hoarse and miserable and past the point of caring about his ruined trousers. “You’re egging it on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jack settled with leaning up against the wall next to David. He was less than an inch away, reclined effortlessly against the bricks with his lovely black hair falling in curtains over his forehead. David could just barely feel his warmth, could sense the tension radiating off of him. “Egging what on?”

“My… my strangeness.” He gestured to himself. The clothes he’d sewn so carefully, his awkward, lanky proportions and the uncomfortable stain that had started this whole mess. His hair, recently cropped again, because he’d never ever be able to live with it long again after the freeing euphoria of having it short. The weirdness. The person that had been lurking under the surface of pressed skirts and waist-length curls of chocolate brown for all his life, scaring everyone away for years. His true self, hesitantly peeking out in bits and pieces, strange and different. “This. Whatever it is. I… I shouldn’t be doing it. I should be going by– you should be calling me–”

He couldn’t even say the name. It felt like poison on his tongue. He hated it.

“What do you want to be called?” Jack asked delicately, his gaze searing the side of David’s face. “‘Cause I’m calling you that. Not what you think I should be calling you. Or not what your parents think, or society, or whatever. What do you want?”

“David. Davey, Dave, all of the other things you call me.” He buried his face in his hands as memories of Spanish endearments and his favorite, Davey-mine, all echoed in his head. That was what he wanted.

“Then that’s what I’m calling you. That’s your name. David. Plain and simple.” Jack’s worn-out leather work boot inched slightly to the right, bumping against David’s badly-shined lace up boot. Jack’s laces didn’t match. David’s shoes were stolen from his parents’ wardrobe, specifically from within a box of his father’s old clothes his parents were keeping for Les. “And you’re a man, if you want to be.”

His eyes stung with tears as he rolled that question around in his head. The ever-present pit in his chest finally seemed to have an explanation, and as he said it aloud for the first time, his heart broke a little bit. Now he understood himself. ”I really want to be."

Maybe even needed to be, but he didn’t say that piece aloud. He couldn’t imagine going back to his old life. Not when he’d tasted the sweetness of being one of the newsies, unabashedly himself. Locking himself in that cage once more would be an indescribable torture.

“You are a man, Davey. To me and all of the other guys. David Jacobs, smartest guy I know. Prob’ly the best-looking, too.” His voice honeyed with the tease as he bumped their shoulders together, melting David bit by bit with the endless kindness and love he seemed to possess. “I never saw you as anyone else and I never will, neither.”

A tear or two slipped as he nodded, tilting his head down and to his left to awkwardly press against Jack’s shoulder. Jack pressed an actual kiss to his hair before wrapping him up in a soft, gentle sort of embrace. “Jack. You’re… you’re a really good person.”

His firm chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Nah, this is the bare minimum of what the world owes you, Dave.”

That made him cry, really and truly, and he was just lucky to have Jack rocking him back and forth in a sturdy embrace. David had never felt so loved before.

They spent a while lingering together, letting David work through all of his conflicting emotions while Jack stood firmly by. Their roles had swapped, usually firm and unwavering David was there for Jack, who had never known stability, to lean on for support. This was a strange departure from their usual dynamic, especially for David and his bone-deep hatred of vulnerability. Honesty reminded him of those childhood evenings when his parents would sit him on the couch and lecture him gently (with undisguised fear and anxiety in their eyes) about how the things he liked weren’t quite acceptable. Honesty reminded him of bad, miserable things. Of feeling like too much within his own skin or too little too. Still, it was more than lovely to have a shoulder to cry on. After a long enough time passed, Les came racing in, brandishing a metal pipe which he seemed intent on bashing Jack’s knees in.

Once he was convinced that no one was going to hurt his brother, Les was subdued and begrudgingly decided to trust Jack again. So they walked Les back to the lodging house and left him in Crutchie’s capable hands. Then, Jack took Davey to Medda’s theatre and he found himself in a washroom, carefully wiping his legs clean.

It seemed that Jack only got more lovely with every passing day. In that alleyway, David fell hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. How could he not? Jack had found out about his lies and deceit and still cared for him. He was even scrounging about in costume storage looking for a new pair of trousers while David cleaned himself up. He was just wonderful, plain and simply, and that made the fact that David couldn’t have him hurt even more. A little knife, twisting into that hollow beneath his ribcage, teasing that Jack was both accepting and unavailable.

Still, David thought of Katherine. He never stood a chance– not against a woman of her caliber. Rich, intelligent, a perfect flirty spitfire to match Jack step for step. One day Jack was going to marry her and disappear into New York’s upper crust, leaving David stranded as just about everyone tended to do.

He’d gotten used to the loneliness. Didn’t mean he liked it any.

Feeling fully and entirely dejected with his entire lower abdomen twisted into nasty, debilitating cramps, he curled up on the tile floor of the washroom and let the chill sink into his skin. Somehow this had become his life. Vacillating between the happiest he’d ever been and the most miserable. A future of corsets and petticoats and no Jack Kelly was making him sick to his stomach.

What could’ve been an hour or just five minutes later found a gentle knocking on the door. He forced himself onto his feet and peaked just his head out the crack of the door. Jack stood, gorgeous and smiling and holding a folded pair of trousers. He also had one of those sanitary belts the rich girls wore.

“Miss Medda gave me this thing.” Jack held it up, looking adorably confused. “I, uh, I told her Smalls needed some stuff back at the lodging house, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thanks.” David whispered, unable to muster up much joy with his thoughts spiraling in such a way.

Right before he could close the door, Jack caught it. He looked hesitant, a furrow between his brows. Hesitance was not a look David often saw on the fearless Jack Kelly. “Can I come in? Once you’re dressed? Just wanna… gotta make sure you’re okay.”

He felt himself softening into a puddle of lovesick goop at the sight of Jack’s face, hopeful and sweet and uncharacteristically childlike. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

Once he was sufficiently clean and covered, wearing the sanitary belt beneath his clothes with one of his father’s leather belts holding the too-baggy trousers ‘round his waist, David sunk to the floor once more and dropped his exhausted forehead against his knees. Silence. This was not how he’d expected his day to go. He beckoned Jack in and soon found himself sitting opposite the other boy, fixed with a look of concerned care. Their legs tangled together and Jack wrapped one warm hand around David’s ankle, searching his expression as if looking for something. Maybe finding his words. His hand glided up and down, skin pushing at the dark hairs there.

Eventually Jack settled on something. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “I thought you’d hate me. My family barely tolerates me, as it is… even Sarah doesn’t support this, and I’d been hoping that she’d be my person through it all. She thinks it’s some sort of abandonment, I think. Like I’m trying to be a man to get away from being a woman– like, to get the right to vote or own property or something– but that isn’t it at all. It’s just– people not wanting this version of me is all I’ve ever known. Les is the only one who’s kind about it. Him and Racetrack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he pouted almost comically. “Wh– Racer found out before me?”

“Sure.” David couldn’t help his own teasing smile. “Remember back in August when we nearly got mugged in Brooklyn? We had to run back and I did my bandages too tight.”

“Bandages?”

Jack wasn’t attracted to him in any way whatsoever so David had no problem unbuttoning his own shirt and lifting his undershirt to show Jack the careful wrappings that kept his chest flat. He wanted to laugh at Jack’s awestruck impression, cheeks darkening beneath his tan and eyes wide. He was probably shocked by the idea that David had been selling papers for hours every single day in such restraints.

“Keeps my chest flat.” David explained simply, smoothing his undershirt back down over his stomach.

Jack swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“But sometimes I tie them too tight,” He continued, unable to stop blabbering around Jack. It was a bad habit, but Jack made him feel comfortable and listened to, which was a rare occurrence, so David had gotten into the routine of yammering endlessly whenever Jack was willing to listen. “Which is what I did that day. I was panicked and overheated and I just convinced myself I couldn’t breathe, even though I probably could’ve if I was calm. Race was great about it. He’s been great since then, of course. He’s always checking up on me. The other day–”

“I would never hate you.” Jack cut him off very suddenly and very intensely, his hand flexing where it still sat, now cupping the back of David’s calf, beneath his pant leg. “You’re… I dunno how, but you’ve become the person I go to for everything. I can’t lose that. Can’t lose you, I mean, Davey-mine.”

Struck by the sudden sincerity, David felt his chest flutter happily beneath the praise. He felt stupid and stripped of his words. “Oh. I… um… yes, I feel the same way, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, glancing over David’s posture. The way he was holding his cramping lower stomach, tight with pain, was probably obvious. But he didn’t care. Jack had seen enough already. And somehow, with an artist’s observational eye and a lover’s gentle attentiveness, Jack knew just what to do and slid his hand up to Davey’s knee. “What’s gonna make you feel less sick? Water? Smalls likes to bundle up and lay in bed, and I know Kath’s always craving salty food…”

“Honestly, um…” He glanced up at Jack, who was leaning in like he actually cared what David would say. David had already made one idiotic decision, and it had ended surprisingly well. He settled on a second one after careful deliberation, and cleared his throat. “I… can you play with my hair?”

A tiny smile took over Jack’s features. “‘Course I can. C’mere.”

Jack’s hands molded him like some sort of sculpture, guiding him to lay with his head pillowed upon Jack’s lap. David’s insides were screaming giddily as he relished in the coolness of the bathroom tile, Jack’s muscles firm and cotton-covered beneath him. Then those hands weaved their way into his hair and gently scraped against his scalp, and David was weak. Done for. Absolutely head over ass in love.

It was easy to pretend, laying on that bathroom floor with Jack’s hands in his hair and his brown eyes carefully scanning over David’s face. It was easy to convince himself that maybe Jack loved as deeply as he did. To pretend that this would become a regular occurrence, that this was a lifetime in which he was Jack’s and Jack was his, and they weren’t lying on the water closet floor in a theater, but instead on a couch in an apartment of their own. In that world, David was comfortable and happy and his parents and Sarah loved him for it, and Jack loved him even harder. In that perfect, wonderful world, he got to be with Jack every morning. He had devotion and love and loneliness was a distant, unrecognizable beast.

This, though? It was halfway there. David was sure it was as close to heaven as he’d get in his lifetime, and he savored every second.

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