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jack-kellys · 6 months ago
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hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk
bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)
tyy :))
hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)
ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!
The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.
School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.
And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.
“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.
“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.
“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”
“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”
“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.
“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”
“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”
David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”
“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”
That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”
Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.
“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”
For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.
David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–
“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”
David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.
“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”
“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”
That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.
“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.
“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.
His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.
“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”
His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”
Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…
In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.
Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.
“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”
Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.
“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.
“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”
David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”
This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.
“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”
“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”
Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.
“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”
David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.
“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.
“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”
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