#never written her before by i just KNOW she flirts with davey a lot

[knockoff-conlon]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

"so." she has a grin on her face. she looks anything but happy. "i've been hearin' things, jackie boy. you 'hattan boys are playin' like you're going on a strike."

"well, we ain't playin'," jack mutters. "we are goin' on strike." davey watches the way spot's jaw sets. "and we- the two o' us came t'ask for your help, spot."

"my help?" she says quietly. it makes his skin itch, the way spot's looking at jack. she sets her chin on her cane and stares.

"we 'hattan boys ain't enough by ourselves. we need you guys. we- you brooklyn kids- y'know?"

"and davey?" spot asks, in a tone that gives off anger. "what d'you have to say?"

"um. well, you- you're the key for our strike. the most powerful borough, most feared newsies. we need you guys or we just don't have enough power. you're-"

"you want us to join?" spot interrupts. jack nods as she shoves herself off of her throne. "are you fucking kiddin' me?" jack swallows.

"spot, pulitzer can't treat us like we is nothin'."

"yeah?" she shoves him back. "your new kid teach you that?" she shoves him again and he stumbles back a little. davey grabs his sleeve and she glares at him. "listen up, kelly. your boys in 'hattan ain't nothin' like me- they got some power i ain't ever gonna get! look around- how many girls do ya see?"

"spot-" jack glances away from her glare so she grabs his hair and yanks him down to her level.

"i said fuckin' look around, kelly. these girls need my protection. they need the money. they don't got your boys' safety. i ain't puttin' them in any danger." she lets go of his hair. "what happens when your boys give up?"

"give up?" davey repeats. he jumps forward to say something but her cane stops him. "we- we won't give up."

"yeah, you say that," she bites out. "until i know that, we ain't doin' anything. i ain't puttin' none of my girls through that!"

"spot-" jack tries.

"no. show me you ain't givin' up and we can talk. till then, hotshot and stray can take ya back." she sits in her throne, gestures for hotshot and stray. hotshot shows up, a big grin on her face. stray pops up behind him, bouncing on her toes.

"well, aintcha a pretty one?" stray loops her arm through davey's and starts to pull him along. "i dunno what you was talkin' to spot about but she ain't lookin' so happy, huh?" jack and hotshot trail behind them. "i heard somethin' 'bout a strike."

"nothing important now. she said no."

"eh, spottie ain't up for a good time like the rest of us," stray mutters. she bounces up and down as they walk. she salutes another girl they pass on the street. davey hears jack and hotshot talking with each other behind them. "whatcha want her to do? go on strike?"

"pulitzer raised the price of papes. manhattan is striking."

"ooh!" she grins. "sounds like a good time if i ever heard one. maybe i'll sneak on down. just to see ya," she adds quietly. davey smiles down at her. "i'll talk to spot for ya."

"will she change her mind?"

"she never does, not about important things. sorry, love." davey looks down. she stops at the edge of the bridge. "good luck on your strike."

[violetwolfraven]

Lean on Me

45 for javid—requested by @livininmyhead

I’ve been lowkey parenting all my friends/siblings alone for a while and now you’re helping me and idk what to do with this???

((I know this is a bit different from my usual style, but I’m trying something out so I hope you like it, anyway.))

...

“Hey, what’s wrong, Elmer?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s fine.”

“It clearly ain’t, so what is it?”

“I didn’t make enough to keep my bed tonight. I’m gonna have to sleep at home. I prefer it here, most of the time, but for one night, it’s no big deal. Like I said, it’s nothin’.”

“Don’t you have like... 10 big brothers and sisters, all livin’ in a normal-sized apartment?”

“I have 8. Why?”

“Nah. You’re not goin’ back there. Sharin’ space is bad enough in a Lodging House, but at least there’s enough for all of us. You can sleep with me and Crutchie on the fire escape for the night.”

“Jack, I—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Elmer. And I ain’t lettin’ ya say no, so can the ‘you don’t have to’ bullshit.”

“I... thanks, Jack.”

“Like I said. Don’t worry ‘bout it, kiddo.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Sure. Need to talk?”

“I was wonderin’... you’re good with things, right? Like... charmin’ people?”

“You’re askin’ me?”

“No, I know how to do it with just anybody to sell papes or whatever. But... but what if it was someone ya actually wanted to... ya know...”

“Ooh! Lookin’ to woo a girl, Romeo?”

“Um... maybe... kind of.”

“...oh. Oh, Ro... It ain’t a girl, is it?”

“No... is that wrong?”

“No. No, Romeo, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, or you. Never let no one tell you different. Just... be careful. I don’t have to tell ya what could—“

“You don’t.”

“If ya don’t mind me askin’... who is it?”

“It’s Specs.”

“Oh. Oh my... I should have seen that coming a long time ago. Okay, so, for flirting with Specs specifically, here’s what you’re gonna do, kid...”

...

“Albert?”

“J-Jack! I’ll—“

“Hey, kid, where ya goin’? What’s wrong? Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Ain’t no shame in cryin’, Albie. It’s okay. Talk to me, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Go away!”

“No. Like I said, cryin’ ain’t anythin’ to be ashamed of. So why are ya cryin’? What’s wrong, Albert?”

“My... my mom. She’s been sick for a while, but now she’s... she’s...”

“Oh, damn. I’m so sorry, kid.”

“Get off me!”

“Albert, there is no shame in needin’ a shoulder to cry on every now and then, no matter what anyone says. And you just lost your mom, so if anyone’s got an excuse, it’s you. I won’t tell nobody. Just let it all out. It’s gonna be okay.”

...

“Jack?”

“What is—Oh my God!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to—“

“Sniper, did your father do this? I know you’ve mentioned him bein’ bad before, but I never thought it was this bad.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Snipes... I won’t ask if ya don’t want me to. But the Lodging House has gotta be safer than—“

“My mom needs the money. I can’t.”

“Fine. If ya need to keep goin’ back for her... Remember that you’s always got a place here if it ever gets too much... but for now, I’ll patch ya up so you can go back to your ma.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Mush?”

“You gave Romeo advice on... makin’ moves on people, right?”

“Yes, I did, and if he told ya to come to me... damn. I mean, I suspected, but 4 of my boys? I gots nothin’ against it, but I don’t like that it ain’t safe.

“Yeah... wait, 4?”

“My advice is good, kid. Ro’s got himself a boyfriend. And for you... it’s Blink, ain’t it?”

“How did you—“

“Mush, buddy, ya ain’t as subtle as ya think you are. And trust me; Blink ain’t soft with anyone, but he is with you. He likes you, too. Gettin’ him ain’t gonna be hard. All ya gotta do is be yourself and ask him out. Just pick somewhere that ain’t too obvious as a date spot so nobody suspects. Unfortunately, lovin’ other boys is dangerous, and I don’t wanna lose any of mine because the wrong people found out.”

“You won’t. I’ll be real careful. Thanks, Jack!”

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

...

“Hey, Jojo, ya got a minute?”

“Yeah, why?”

“A couple of the fellas came to me, a bit worried about ya. I was just wonderin’ if you were okay.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jojo, I’s heard a lot of lies in my day from a lot of liars. And you’s honestly got to be the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s fine, Jack. I can handle it.”

“Mike said you freaked out and went to a bad place just cause he startled you. What’s that about?”

“He saw me writin’ with my left hand, okay? It’s fine. I just forgot what I was doin’ and didn’t mean to use it, but—“

“What’s wrong with usin’ your left hand?”

“It’s wrong. I’ll go to hell because of it.”

“Who told ya that?”

“The nuns.”

“Jo... can you control it? Usin’ your left?”

“No. Why does that—“

“If you can’t control it, ain’t doin’ it on purpose and ain’t hurtin’ anyone by doin’ it, why is it wrong?”

“‘Cause...”

“Look, nuns say a lot of things, and most of ‘em mean well. But they’re learnin’ from a book written a long time ago. Times change. And look—Mush writes with his left. Do ya think he’s goin’ to hell?”

“...no.”

“There ya go. You’re fine just the way you are. Okay? Don’t let no one tell ya different. Need a hug?”

“A hug sounds nice.”

“Come here, kid.”

...

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t—“

“Finch, calm down. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. You’re okay. You’re safe. Shh. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya here.”

“Are-are ya sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Your folks ain’t gonna find ya here, and if they do, I won’t let ‘em get to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Shh. It’s okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll protect you, okay? You believe me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. Hush, now. Get some sleep.”

...

“Hey, Jack. You awake?”

“Well, I am now.”

“Sorry... do ya really think we can win this? I mean... that Plumber woman is right. We really are just a gang of kids.”

“Hey. We’re a gang of kids with the wit and will to pull this off. We got a reporter willin’ to listen to us. And sure, she’s a girl, but...”

“That’s more than we’ve ever had before.”

“Exactly. We’ll be fine, Crutchie. Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

“We’ve never had someone like Davey Jacobs, either.”

“We sure haven’t! He’s somethin’ else, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, but... what if Finch is right and the cops come bust our heads?”

“Then I’ll be there takin’ the first hit.”

“Jack—“

“What I mean is, I ain’t gonna let him get to you or any of the rest of the fellas. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t say anything about him, Jack.”

“Who said anything about him? There’s no ‘him.’”

“Jack, we both know more likely than not, he shows up. Are you gonna be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, Crutchie. I’ll be fine and so will everyone else.”

“That seems like a promise ya shouldn’t—“

“Goodnight, Crutchie. Go to sleep.”

...

“Whoa, Race are you—“

“I’m fine, Jack.”

“Pretty nasty shiner you’ve got, there, so I’d argue that you’re not, but that ain’t why I’m askin’. I know you, Race. I can tell when your smile is faked, and honestly, it is a lot more than it should be, but—“

“Spot didn’t come.”

“What?”

“I thought he’d come for us! I thought he’d show up at the last minute to save us but then he didn’t and he just—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Race. Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Spot Conlon and me... ya know we’re close, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know you’re—oh. Oh. Okay.”

“What? What’s oh?”

“Ya could’ve told me. I mean, I gots a bunch of queer pairs I’ve been helpin’ sneak around.”

“Spot and me ain’t—“

“Save it, Racer. I think we both know that ain’t true.”

“I... you’re really fine with it?”

“Sure. I don’t care who ya fool around with, long as nobody finds out ‘bout ya foolin’ around with boys.”

“No, Jack, ya don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get? What’s this about, Racer?”

“It’s not just foolin’ around! I... Jack, I think I...”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... I didn’t think Spot Conlon had feelings.”

“That’s the problem, Jack. I don’t know if he does. The problem is that I think... I think I love him. And he didn’t come for me.”

“Oh shit... the L word. Are you... are you sure?”

“I don’t know! I just know that he’s... I care about him like I care about you, but different! He makes me feel like... like I don’t even know what! Like I’m ramblin’ and he understands it all! Like he gets every part of me! And it is so stupid, but I think I get him, too! Or at least I did! Cause I was sure he was coming, and then he didn’t.”

“I’m guessin’ Davey didn’t tell ya yet.”

“Tell me what?”

“Spot sent over a kid to say he’s comin’ next time, so... I guess your boy is comin’ for ya.”

“...yeah. I guess he is.”

“I guess you’ll get a chance to see if he feels the same, but... Hey, listen. I gotta go, okay? I got a man to see. Do ya need me to stay for a bit?”

“Nah, it’s... it’s fine. Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Oh, sure, Mike. Davey, mind if I step away for a second?”

“Is this something that needs to be a secret?”

“No. No, it ain’t a secret. It’s just... Ike didn’t come in tonight, and I knows he ain’t in the Refuge, cause the Refuge is gone, but what if he’s hurtin’ somewhere? He didn’t tell me he was gonna—“

“Mike, buddy, it’s okay. Calm down. We know where he is.”

“Ya do?”

“He came by and said he was gonna spend some time in Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, it’s late enough that he’s probably spending the night. I don’t know Spot Conlon that well, but he doesn’t seem like the type to let a kid walk all the way back here after dark.”

“He ain’t—you’re right. Look, if he don’t come to the circulation gate tomorrow, then we’ll worry. For now, Ike’s almost certainly fine.”

“You’d think he’d remember to tell his brother when he goes places. That shithead.”

“Language!”

“Davey, everybody curses ‘round here. Includin’ you, come to think of it.”

“I know, but... damn. I’m becoming my mother.”

...

“Jack... can we talk? Alone?”

“Sure, Kath. What’s up?”

“There’s no good way to say this... we need to end this. You and me.”

“...what?”

“Jack, I’m sorry, but... I don’t love you. Not like that. You’re a wonderful friend—don’t get me wrong—but I don’t love you. I never did. I just didn’t realize it because besides Bill and Darcy, I’ve never really had any friends. You were the first friend I’ve made in a long time, and... and now that I’ve gotten some time to be better friends with the others, I’m realizing that what we had was never real.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. I... I guess I was attracted to you, at first, but that faded without me realizing it a long time ago. And I know saying this is hurting you, but... Jack, it wouldn’t be fair to either of us for me to pretend I still want to be with you when I don’t. The fact is, neither of us is what the other really needs. And honestly, I don’t think you ever really loved me, either, and... and if you’re with me, you won’t find that person out there who you will love. I have no doubt that you’ll find someone to love who loves you the way you deserve, Jack.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kath.”

“I really am so sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

“We can be. Don’t worry about it.”

...

“Hey, Jack? Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buttons. What is it?”

“It’s nothin’. I can go ask Davey.”

“Ask Davey what?”

“Jack, it’s nothin’ you need to worry ‘bout. You’re clearly not doin’ so well due to the breakup, and—“

“I’m fine, Buttons! Seriously! What is it?”

“It’s just... I didn’t earn enough today to buy my papes tomorrow. Ya know—winter is rough on everyone. I was gonna ask ya to ask around if anyone can spare anythin’, but I can go ask—“

“Ya don’t have to ask Davey. I’ll do it.”

...

“Shh, shh, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay, okay? You’re okay. You’re safe, here.”

“Jack, what’s going on?”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Dave. This is a crappy night for this to happen, bein’ your first night sleepin’ over at the Lodging House, but I can handle this. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Blink? Blink, are you okay?”

“He’s still... not really here. It’ll take some time for him to get back, but you don’t have to stay up. I can handle it by myself. Really, Davey.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to. Blink, do you want me to leave?”

“...no.”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. It’s okay, Blink. You’re safe. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. Me and Jack are right here, okay?”

“We’re both right here for you.”

...

“Specs, what the hell happened to you? Davey! Davey, get in here, and bring some bandages!”

“What’s wro—oh my God!”

“It ain’t the worst that’s happened, Jack, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that don’t mean I gotta like it. Was it..?”

“Some shitheads who didn’t like me bein’ darker-skinned than them? Yeah. I’ll survive, though.”

“You know how wrong that is, right Specs?”

“Well, obviously, Davey. I’m the one who got soaked.”

“Where are they?”

“Davey—“

“Where are they? I get enough shit for being Jewish that I know a bit of what he’s goin’ through, Jack. And people like that—“

“Gettin’ soaked by a bunch of guys bigger than you won’t solve nothin’, Davey. And believe me, that is all that’ll happen if you go after them.”

“Fine. At least stay in bed tomorrow and rest up. I’ll sell extra to make up you missing.”

“I’ll help. Romeo probably will, too.”

“Thanks, Jack. Thanks, Davey.”

“Thank us after we patch you up.”

...

“If ya tell anyone about this, Jackie Boy, you won’t live long enough to see me deny it.”

“Relax, Spot. I ain’t tellin’ anyone. How’d ya wind up with a dislocated shoulder, anyway?”

“That’s my business. Are ya gonna fix it or not?”

“Oh, I’m gonna. It’ll hurt less if it’s a surprise, though, so’s we gotta talk about somethin’ else. Um... so, you and Racer?”

“...yeah, I guess.”

“That is so weird to think about. I never would have seen that one coming. I don’t need to tell you that if ya hurt him, Manhattan’ll go to war, right?”

“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”

“You’d better not.”

“I’m serious. I ain’t gonna—ah!”

“There. Your shoulder’s fixed. You’re welcome. And... you’s got real feelins’ for Race, don’t ya?”

“...maybe.”

“Good. Cause I‘s known Race a long time, and he fakes half his smiles. But the ones he gets when he talks to me ‘bout you are always real. He’s got it bad for ya, Conlon. You’d better not break him.”

“I won’t. Ever. Cause... cause maybe I’ve got it bad for him, too. But if ya ever tell him or anyone else I told you that—“

“I know, I know. I’ll be dead by midnight. My lips are sealed.”

“They’d better be. So... you and Walkin’ Mouth?”

“What?!”

...

“Where did you learn to braid, Jack?”

“Well, it was a long time ago, but I did have a mother once upon a time, Sarah.”

“Oh my God, I’m so—“

“It’s fine. I don’t talk about her much, but she’s been gone long enough that it don’t hurt so much. And ya know, when Smalls first got here, she had this super long hair that she needed to keep out of the way, ‘fore she asked Crutchie to cut it. Somebody had to help her.”

“Oh. That’s nice of you.”

“So, Sarah...”

“Jack?”

“I was wonderin’... I ran into Spot Conlon a while back, and he mentioned some things about... do Davey and me act like we’s together?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No..?”

“I thought you were together! I just assumed Davey wasn’t telling me about it because... well, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to be together? With Davey?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well, I’d suggest figuring that out, cause David’s always had a stick up his ass, and I’ve never seen him relax the way he does with you. You make him feel free to be... Davey.”

“You’re sayin’ he wants to be with me?!”

“God, Kelly. You really are oblivious. Yes, you stupid cowboy. So finish this braid and go get him.”

...

“Jackie, can you sit down? Please?”

“I can’t, Davey. I gotta—“

“Everyone’s accounted for. Well, except Race, but Jojo said he saw him headed towards Brooklyn earlier. He’s probably spending the night and forgot to tell us.”

“The dishes—“

“It was Romeo’s turn and I made sure he did ‘em hours ago.”

“Specs—“

“I checked his ribs again this afternoon and he’s healing fine. Everyone’s fine, Jackie. Sit down.”

“...thanks, Davey.”

“You’re welcome. I think you forget sometimes that everybody needs somebody to lean on occasionally, even you.”

“I ain’t been leanin’ on anyone since I was... since I started leadin’ Manhattan.”

“And everyone leans on you. I know. You like knowin’ they’re all safe and happy, but who makes sure you’re safe and happy? Nobody—that’s the answer, so don’t try to argue it. So I guess it’s gotta be me. If no one else, I guess I’m the one you can lean on.”

[mademoiselleenjolras]

Is That Gaelic?

So, a while back there was a swarm of Irish Newsie headcannons on the page of the lovely @earlyjunes, and it reminded me of this fic. It has been sitting half-written for FOREVER, but I finally finished it and I think I’m okay with how it turned out. Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t often that Davey made the climb up to Jack’s “penthouse,” but today he needed to. Jack had forgotten to get his share of the day’s earnings, and Davey had doubled back the moment he realized. He didn’t want Jack to miss dinner, or even the night’s rent, because of it. And really, any excuse to hang out at the lodging house and take a break from home was a good one, in his opinion. He enjoyed the evenings he spent with his friends playing cards or roughhousing in the crowded living room. Race had pointed him upstairs when he had arrived, telling him to find Kelly there and drag him down for a game of poker.

As he ducked out the lodging house window and started up the ladder, he could hear someone singing up above him. This wasn’t a rare occurrence in itself; it was an open secret that Jack could often be found singing, especially if he was alone. It was definitely his voice. What caught Davey’s interest this time was that the words were unfamiliar to him. The longer he listened, the more sure he was that whatever Jack was singing wasn’t English. He hadn’t known Jack to speak any other language.

By the time he reached the top of the ladder, he could see Jack standing with his back turned, working intently on what looked like a new drawing. He hadn’t yet noticed his friend.

“Is that Gaelic?”

Jack jumped violently, whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?” He shouted, shoving his drawings behind him reflexively. He puffed up his chest, trying to project as much bravado as he could, before realizing who had joined him on the fire escape. His eyes rolled animatedly. “Dave, ain’t nobody ever told ya not t'sneak up on a guy?” He demanded.

“Sorry,” Davey said, mildly apologetic as he realized that he had actually frightened the other boy. Jack shrugged him off, turning around to properly put his art supplies away. Intensely curious, however, Davey decided to press the subject.

“I didn’t know you were Irish,” he ventured. Jack’s shoulders tensed visibly, but he didn’t deny it.

“Ain’t somethin’ I advertise,” he admitted tersely. Davey, in his excitement, didn’t register the guarded tone. The fact that he had received an answer was enough for him to keep going.

“Are you from Ireland? No wait, you’d probably have an accent. Not that you don’t have one already, but it definitely isn’t Irish. Does that mean your folks were from Ireland?” He asked, rambling a bit. One of his favorite things in the world was learning about different cultures, and here he was just finding out that his best friend was from somewhere far-off and interesting.

“My Ma was from over there,” Jack bit out. His past, his parents, his heritage, they were all taboo subjects to Jack Kelly, Man of Mystery. Davey admittedly didn’t know it, but he was trespassing on all of them.

“Is that where you learned the song? Did she teach you? What’s it about?”

“Dunno whats it about. Don’ speak any Irish.”

Davey tilted his head, confused. “What? Why not? You obviously know the words, why not figure out what they-”

“Why do you wanna know?” Jack finally exclaimed, unable to take Davey’s rapid-fire questions any longer. “So I’s Irish. I’ll soak yas if ya tells anyone, ‘bout that or the singin’, ya got that?” Davey realized with wide eyes that his friend wasn’t thrilled with the topic of conversation. Jack glared at him from across the fire escape. All Davey could do for a moment was blink at him, shocked at the sudden outburst. He went very still in order to avoid being the subject of another one, a habit he had never really grown out of. Watching Jack carefully, he waited for the other boy to make the next move.

It didn’t take too long for Jack to break. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered petulantly, sitting down and leaning against the railing. The tension dissipated with his movement. “I just don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it.”

Davey felt himself release a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He crossed the fire escape and sat next to Jack, bumping his shoulder to show there were no hard feelings. “Y'know, I think it’s pretty neat,” he offered. Jack turned to look at him sideways, suspicion clear in his eyes, and the other boy continued. “It’s an interesting culture. Unique.”

He received a bitter smirk in response. “Yeah, well, most folks don’ think like yous,” he scoffed.

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone?”

“There’s a buncha of reasons I ain’t told nobody, nitwit!” Jack snapped, his tone almost annoyed. Davey gave him an unimpressed look. Some of the anxiety on Jack’s face faded again as he nodded guiltily. Davey meant no harm by his questions- hell, he meant no harm by anything he ever did- and there was no use taking his frustrations out on the other boy. He looked away, eyes searching the rooftops around them for something of which Davey wasn’t sure. “Bein’ Irish ain’t really somethin’ what makes you real… favorable with people. It ain’t so bad as it used t'be, back when folks was just gettin’ offa boats and all,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t seen one of them “No Irish” ads in the papes in a couple'a weeks. Don’ think I’d really be fired if anyone knew. But it still ain’t exactly… safe, havin’ folks like the Delanceys know about it.“

Davey nodded, considering the sense in Jack’s words. Being found out by the Delanceys could get him soaked just for his heritage. An ugly thought, but a distinct possibility. Davey knew how Irish people had been treated in the past, had seen the scattered "No Irish Need Apply” signs throughout the city and had heard of how common they used to be. They were fading, it was true, but the sentiments behind them weren’t uncommon yet. Jack’s parents had probably hidden the fact that they were Irish from the world for most of his childhood, and who did he have now to tell him it wasn’t truly necessary anymore?

“Do the other guys know?” Davey asked. Jack shook his head. His jaw was tense, letting him know that it wasn’t something Jack was proud of.

“They ain’t stupid, but I ain’t ever really told 'em neither. I ain’t lyin’ to 'em, if that’s what you’s thinkin’.”

Davey shook his head. “It wasn’t. Do you think they would mind, if they really knew?”

Jack considered it for a moment. His eyes flirted from one building to the next, still purposefully avoiding Davey’s own.

“Doubt it,” he finally sighed. “They all knows about Race, for sure. Most of 'em ain’t exactly from 'round here, either.” Davey nodded. He recalled Romeo, in particular, exclaiming something or other in Spanish when excited or particularly angry. None of the other newsies seemed to mind. Certainly none of them minded the fact that he himself was Jewish.

Jack was a simply a private person when it came to his past, always had been, always would be. The fact that he had only been snapped at for bringing it up, rather than punched in the mouth, was a bit of a surprise to Davey. He decided to let his friend have his little secrecies, but had one more question before he could really let it go.

“Do you miss talking about it?”

Jack fell silent for another long stretch. Just as Davey began to think he wouldn’t get an answer, though, he got one he didn’t quite expect. “I miss hearin’ her sing it,” Jack admitted quietly. “I don’ miss a lot and I ain’t remember much of her. I was only a kid when she… y'know. But it was always nice t'hear. And now s'close to all what I gots left of her. I tries t’ sing it when no one’s 'round, so’s I don’t forget.”

Davey nodded, feeling honored Jack had told him the truth. It spoke of a lot of trust on Jack’s part. “Well, if you ever want to talk more about it, I’d be happy to listen,” he said. Jack’s answering smile was all the thanks he knew he would get. “In the meantime, I’ve been told there’s a very high-stakes poker game about to start downstairs.” He stood up, offering a hand to help Jack do the same. The leader smirked, accepting it.

“I s'pose I oughta come in an’ knock Racer down a couple'a pegs,” he agreed with a serious nod. “Since ya sure can’t do it yourself.”

“Hey!” Davey feigned offense, despite the fact that they both knew he was lousy at poker. They shared a laugh and turned to go. As they headed back down the ladder, Davey glanced at Jack’s face, trying to see anything that would give the boy away as Irish. Shaking his head, he decided that maybe he could see it, now that he knew what to look for. And didn’t that describe their whole friendship?

[violetwolfraven]

Touch x5

No one asked for this but y’all can’t stop me. Basically 3 people who experience the Newsies habits involving physical touch, (and why specific individuals touch each other) 1 who is reintroduced to it, and 1 who completely misreads what it means.

Warnings: Uh... period-typical homophobia/internalized homophobia, referenced physical abuse, PTSD, brief mentions of injuries I guess?

...

x1

Les thought the atmosphere that was created by most or all of the Manhattan Newsies (plus a couple of Brooklyn boys, occasionally) was exciting.

He’d always had friends back in school, but his old buddies weren’t like this. They didn’t randomly jump up against a building to vault off it and do a backflip just to hear the cheers and laughter of their friends. They didn’t check each other over carefully whenever someone was hurt. They didn’t take a second to stop and ask if you were okay if you did anything that indicated you might be sad.

But mostly, Les’s old friends didn’t touch each other as much as his new ones did.

Back in school, it had always been ‘hands to yourself,’ except when they were playing tag or football. But with the Newsies, it was a constant stream of friendly touches. Les was always getting his hair ruffled or his shoulder squeezed or his arm punched in a friendly way and he loved it. He even loved the way one Newsie would take his hat off so another could slap him with theirs if he said something stupid.

Les was well aware that in school, it wasn’t that way because... well, that would be weird. You didn’t just sling your arm around your friend for an entire conversation or jump on their back and cling there until there was a risk of falling over just to surprise them. You just didn’t.

But you did with the Newsies. You didn’t question it. You just did.

Les thought it might be about the way everyone reacted after the strike, when everyone was in pain and those who were in a little less were helping those who were in a little more. Les vaguely remembered Race rubbing his arms to try to calm him down and flicking his nose in a friendly manner before quickly setting his broken wrist with a stick and some stray strips of fabric and telling him not to take it out of the sling until it didn’t hurt anymore, plus a day, just to be safe.

And after he was okay—well, not crying anymore and more okay than a lot of others were—Les noticed how even when all of them were covered in cuts and bruises that would probably just hurt more if touched, the stream of physical contact didn’t end. No, it just got a little more gentle, taking away the fearful adrenaline and helping everyone feel safe.

Kid Blink still leaned against Mush’s knee despite his bruises, sitting in front of the crate the other boy was on. Les knew that the only people around to see in the alley all the Newsies were clumped together in between some dumpsters as they patched each other up enough to move back to the Lodging House were each other, but that didn’t make it any less surprising when Mush stopped stroking Blink’s hair and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

Les knew even most of the other Newsies didn’t touch each other that way, so he guessed maybe ‘best friends’ wasn’t a term that applied well to the pair.

Well, confusing as that may be, Les didn’t see how it could be anything but natural in a group that made each other feel safe even while most of them were hurt.

...

x2

Sarah knew not a lot of girls sold newspapers, and sometimes she asked Davey to go grab her papes to avoid the Delancey brothers’ comments, but she certainly enjoyed this more than her old factory job, and besides, now there was room to make friends.

All of Davey’s new friends were fun, but at first Sarah thought they were a bit handsy, with the way someone was always clapping her on the back or bumping her shoulder or grabbing her hand just to squeeze it before running off to their spot. But then she figured out that they acted like that with everyone, and they always stopped if she asked them to, and it wasn’t just because she was a girl around their age.

It took some getting used to, but Sarah eventually found it just another part of her day. It became routine; block Jack’s hand before he could mess up her hair, let Mike and Ike adjust her form when they teach her some self defense, throw her arm around Jojo to stop girls from flirting with him so he doesn’t get uncomfortable... it was easy. Physical contact was written in everything the Newsies did. It was as essential as breathing.

And then there was Katherine, and Katherine didn’t have as much time to hang around the group, but she’d joined it around the same time Sarah did, and was just as new at all of this.

Katherine’s red hair shined in the sun and her hands were always gentle when she helped a little one patch up a scraped knee and Sarah really wanted to hold her hand but she wasn’t sure if Katherine would be okay with that, with how the reporter often brushed away Jack’s and Romeo’s touches as annoying.

And since Sarah spent practically every day with the Newsies, she knew their gossip better than Katherine could. She knew that several pairs of them were... more than friendly, even being the same gender, and while it wasn’t safe, the group didn’t care. Sarah had no intention of telling anyone that she was attracted to girls, but she was. She understood what they felt but didn’t know if Katherine would even want to be her friend if she knew.

But then one day, Katherine was hanging around the girls’ corner of the Lodging House, where Sniper and Smalls slept and had a couple spare blankets to drape down from the top bunk so the boys couldn’t see them change, and Sarah found out that the reporter didn’t mind at all.

Sniper was leaning upside down over the edge of the bunk, trying to win a bet and shoot a can set up on one of the boy’s beds, when Smalls very suddenly kissed her, making her miss her shot, though Sarah noted that Sniper didn’t seem to mind that much, just content to keep doing what they were doing.

Katherine’s only reaction was to roll her eyes and smile, swatting Smalls with a newspaper and complaining that she’d cheated. And when the short brunette fell backwards next to Sarah sitting on the next bunk over, Sarah was glad that it was acceptable to reach over and squeeze Smalls tightly in her excitement.

...

x3

When Katherine first started hanging out with the Newsies, she’d figured out pretty quick that touch was their love language, and not even in a romantic way, for the most part. Touching each other was how they made sure each other were okay and how they showed their brotherly bond. It was beautiful to Katherine, if very different from how Bill, Darcy, and all the other men she’d grown up with expressed affection.

For the Newsies, it was the most natural thing in the world to celebrate a good headline by grabbing the nearest friend and dancing a messy little do-si-do, or to huddle together on a cold day. Not a one of them bothered with social conventions that men weren’t supposed to show affection, and definitely not by touching each other constantly.

But that was how the Newsies worked, and Katherine couldn’t say she was sorry that they adopted her effortlessly, incorporating her into their existing friendship like she’d always belonged there.

Katherine liked waking up early to meet them at the gates for a bit of hangout time before work started. She liked meeting Davey halfway for a one-armed hug, or dodging Jack and Romeo’s joke-flirting only to let them clasp her shoulder in greeting, or making up a new secret handshake with Race because they both forgot the one they made last time.

Actually, it was through Race that Katherine learned how some of the touches between certain Newsies weren’t just about friendship.

She was meeting him over at Sheepshead, since supposedly he had a scoop on one of the trainers sabotaging other people’s horses, though Katherine was a little skeptical about if he’d actually found anything or was just over-dramatizing things.

She’d turned a corner to the place under the stands where Race usually was when he took a break from selling, only to find not only her good friend Racetrack Higgins, but Spot Conlon, and well... even for the Newsies, being pinned against a wall while someone kissed you senseless wasn’t a platonic gesture.

The two jumped apart the second they saw Katherine, and Race tried to say that it wasn’t what it looked like, but Katherine assured them that she wasn’t going to tell anyone, but wanted to know if the Newsies were okay with that kind of thing; being in a relationship with someone of the same gender.

Race was puzzled, but responded that, yes, the fellas were fine with it, and that various combinations of their group had courted at one point or another, with several pairs currently together. Spot chimed in to report that even a few inter-borough relationships happened, his and Race’s being one of them.

That fact known, Katherine felt absolutely no guilt when Medda put on a special show after hours just for the Newsies as a one-time thing, and Katherine put her arm around Sarah near the beginning of it, the two of them more or less cuddling for the duration of the show. And she definitely wasn’t complaining when a love song came on, and Sarah gently turned her face up so her lips could meet Katherine’s.

Somehow, the fact that Jack had seen and told pretty much everyone didn’t embarrass Katherine too much. Or maybe she just enjoyed the playful camaraderie of her friends coming up to congratulate her with a handshake or a slap on the arm.

...

x4

Crutchie had always known that his friendship with the other Newsies worked differently than a lot of friendships, but he’d never really registered how differently until he was forced to go without it.

In the Refuge, there was no Jack helping him get down a ladder, or Romeo offering a one-armed hug as a good morning, or Finch ruffling his hair when he predicted the weather. Even being new, Crutchie noticed the sore absense of any kind of positive contact between anyone. Even boys who claimed to be friends never touched unless they absolutely had to.

No, contact was limited to Snyder and the guards giving a beating, or someone roughly shoving their way down the hallway because they judged those in front of them too slow, or a hard slap against a limb to try to jostle for more space on the bed or get someone’s foot out of their face.

The only remotely positive interactions Crutchie got were sympathetic grimaces from a boy who saw his bruises, or an only slightly grumpy hand handing him his crutch, but those things were not even close to what he was used to and not nearly enough after years of nearly constant friendly contact from boys he considered his brothers.

Then Crutchie was released, and he got back that contact he’d been hanging onto the memory of, but somehow it wasn’t how he remembered it. He suddenly couldn’t let Race throw an arm around his shoulder to greet him in the morning. He couldn’t accept a double-hug from Mike and Ike when there was a good headline or keep from flinching when Jack tried to make sure he didn’t fall on the way down from the Penthouse.

Crutchie didn’t understand. He’d spent his time in the Refuge missing this and now he could barely take any of it? It didn’t make sense.

When he tried to explain to Jack, the older boy just smiled sadly and nodded in understanding. He said that he’d gone through that when he first got out; not being able to let anyone touch him for a while. Jack still couldn’t handle people touching his left shoulder unexpectedly, but they all had little triggers like that. Random touches or tones of voice paired with specific words that couldn’t be used. Crutchie just didn’t understand why he seemed to be triggered by practically everything.

But Jack said to give it time. To let this get better with time and just try to be patient with himself.

And slowly, with help from the other Newsies, all of whom were willing to do whatever they had to do to help as best they could, Crutchie did get better.

Maybe not all of his scars could completely heal with time, but Crutchie was getting better. Now, when Davey patted his shoulder before they parted ways selling or Romeo leaned up against him while dramatically describing his latest failed romantic venture, most touch could feel as normal as it had before he’d gotten taken.

...

x5

Davey had noticed the Newsies as very physically connected people even before he’d been one of them. That was to say he’d noticed them playing around, putting each other in headlocks and even one guy casually riding on another’s shoulders from the first morning he’d started selling.

And as much as Davey enjoyed this dynamic once he started getting included in it and got used to someone always touching him, it made it that much more painful, knowing that a certain friend of his touched everyone he cared about like that.

Davey had never fallen in love before, so he kind of missed that he did at first, before realizing that what he was feeling for one of the Newsies was everything he’d read in books that involved love. From thinking about him constantly to getting butterflies whenever he saw his smile, Davey couldn’t deny that he felt something more than simple friendship.

Unfortunately, Jack Kelly happened to be a boy, which made him completely unattainable, even if it made Davey felt like sparks were flying every time he touched him, and he had to remind himself that it didn’t mean a thing.

It didn’t mean anything that Jack practically picked Davey up in his excitement when there was a really good headline and he hugged him and spun around. It didn’t mean anything when he grabbed Davey’s face to check him for injuries after they got out of a fight. It didn’t mean anything when there weren’t any spare chairs in Jacobis and Jack chose Davey’s lap instead of the table.

After all, he’d seen Race hug Spot much tighter when he got excited. Sniper always looked that worried when she checked Smalls over after a fight. Kid Blink sat on Mush’s lap even when there were free seats.

And it wasn’t like Albert didn’t kiss Finch on the cheek some mornings before mock saluting when they went off on separate selling routes, or laugh loudly when the taller boy sometimes pulled him back to whisper something in his ear while keeping one hand on Albert’s waist.

All that was to be expected of Newsie friendships. None of it was weird with them because... well, it just wasn’t. The fact that he loved those friendships so much was why Davey could absolutely not tell anyone that he’d fallen for his best friend. They would never understand. The others would hate him if they found out, not that Davey could blame them. Guys weren’t supposed to love other guys. Davey knew that, so as long as nobody ever found out, those friendly touches and friendships wouldn’t change and Davey would never lose them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

It wasn’t common that the entire group wasn’t together after a day of selling, but when one of those days came, Jack was painting a backdrop for Medda, and the rest of them were hanging out in the Lodging House, Davey personally watching Race beat everyone at poker.

“So, when is Jack getting back?”

It’d been an innocent question. Fair, for a best friend. Davey didn’t think anyone would suspect anything.

Instead, Race turned around to give Davey a smirk, “Why? Only been a few hours since sellin’ time! Missin’ ya boyfriend already?”

“What? My—“ Davey sputtered, “Jack is not my— why would you think—?”

“Please,” Spot said nonchalantly, “As if we all couldn’t see how you’se been crushin’ on him since day one.”

Davey’s breathing sped up as he realized what they were saying. They knew. They all knew.

“Whoa, Davey, are you okay?” Mush’s voice asked, sounding far away.

Davey couldn’t breath. He was going to lose them all. He didn’t have any other friends and now he was going to lose the ones he had. Everything felt like too much, from the press of the bedpost where he was gripping it probably too tight to the others voices, all overlapping and sounding too loud and too far away all at once. Davey sucked in breath as fast as he could but it didn’t seem to be enough. He still couldn’t breath. He couldn’t get enough air.

One voice cut through it all.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong? Davey! Davey, are you okay?”

Davey flinched away from Jack’s touch, and the other boy stopped trying to grab his shoulders, his hands hovering halfway between Davey sitting on the bed and Jack crouching in front of him.

“Davey, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you need to try to breath, okay? Just take a deep breath with me. In... and out.”

Davey did his best, breathing in and out as Jack instructed, slowly managing to come down from his panic.

Jack looked around accusingly at the fellas, “Alright, who did this? What did alls you’se do?”

“We didn’t do anything!” Spot protested.

“Spot mentioned things ‘bout Davey bein’ queer,” Smalls said.

“Smalls!”

“What? I tells the truth, unlike you!”

Jack looked back at Davey, and found that the other boy wouldn’t look him in the eye. Why would he? Davey certainly didn’t want to look at the boy he loved whilst getting kicked out of the friend group.

“Don’t worry about it,” Davey mumbled, “If it’s okay with you, Les’ll keep selling, but I’m sure I can find other work.”

“What are you...” Jack seemed to realize something, “Dave, can I touch you?”

Davey was surprised he wanted to, but nodded.

Causing even more surprise, Jack didn’t put his hand on Davey’s arm or hand. Instead, he grabbed the taller boy’s chin gently and forced Davey to look at him.

“Dave, what do you see when you look over there?”

Davey looked where Jack was gesturing with the hand that hadn’t moved to Davey’s shoulder. He didn’t understand, but he looked.

Blink was sitting in the poker circle, on Mush’s lap as he leaned back against the other boy’s chest, somehow neither of them having looked at each other’s cards.

Smalls was on a bunk behind them, laying back with her head close to where Sniper was sitting, who was softly smiling as she stroked Smalls’s hair. Smalls was playing, but Sniper wasn’t.

Race had his legs tossed across Spot’s, and he occasionally leaned over to try to get a look at his cards, though the King of Brooklyn always pushed him back with a fond smile.

Finch was playing as a team with Albert as they didn’t have enough cards for everyone, and the latter was between the former’s legs as Finch rested his chin on top of Albert’s hair.

Katherine wasn’t playing poker, but she was perched on a bunk nearby, sitting very close to Sarah, who was looking at Davey like he was stupid for some reason.

Sarah only gave him that look when she was genuinely frustrated with him, and Davey stared his twin down, not sure what she was trying to get at, here as they tried to communicate with just their facial expressions.

“Uh, what’s going on there?” Jack asked.

“It’s a twin thing,” Mike answered.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ike agreed.

Davey gave up trying to get whatever Sarah was trying to communicate and turned back to Jack.

“What am I looking at?”

Jack made a small noise of disbelief, “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Jack huffed and dragged his hands through his hair, “So, why do you think we wouldn’t want to be friends with you anymore?”

“Because I’m... I like boys,” Davey admitted, “Why would you want to be friends with someone like that? You’re all such close friends, and—“

“You think we’re all friends?” Albert asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Of course you are. Why else would you be—“

“Davey,” Mush cut him off gently, “That’s not... we aren’t...” he made a frustrated noise, “I don’t do this with my friends.”

Davey was fairly certain his brain short-circuited out of surprise as Mush leaned down and full-on kissed Blink on the lips. Sniper wolf-whistled, but other than that, nobody had really any reaction.

As they separated, Blink shrugged with a smile, “He does that with me, though.”

Suddenly, a lot of things made a lot more sense, and Davey wondered how he’d never seen it before. Even Sarah... oh, God, how had he never noticed?

“Yeah, we don’t much care if ya like Jack’s ass,” Spot summed up.

Davey froze. He’d just accepted that the fellas were okay with him liking boys, but that didn’t mean he wanted Jack to know he liked him.

Especially since... especially since even if Jack didn’t care, he’d been with Katherine a while back, and Sarah for a bit afterwards. He liked girls. He wasn’t one of the ones like Davey.

But Jack just stifled a laugh, “You like my ass?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Davey mumbled, “But yeah, I... I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. And it’s okay that you don’t feel the same.”

Davey made a point not to meet Jack’s eyes. He didn’t want to know what the other boy’s expression was, because even if he wasn’t disgusted by Davey liking boys, he might be by Davey liking him specifically, and even if he wasn’t, he might feel guilty for rejecting him, and Davey didn’t want him to hurt like that or at all and—

“Why would you think I don’t feel the same?”

Jack’s words were soft in a way Davey had never heard before, and gentle in a way that he had never expected to have meant for him.

Davey looked up in surprise, meeting Jack’s eyes and finding that his expression was gentle and almost... loving?

“You were with Katherine,” Davey stuttered, “And... and Sarah. You like girls.”

He was finding it very hard to think as Jack ever so slowly leaned closer, laughing lightly.

“And that means I can’t like boys?”

“Well...” Davey’s brain melted as Jack leaned his forehead against his own, the gentle pressure sending fireworks through his mind.

“It just so happens, I like you a lot, too,” Jack said quietly, “And in case you still don’t get it...”

Jack pressed a small kiss to Davey’s lips and Davey felt warmth pass through him in a flash.

“I love you, Davey Jacobs.”

Davey took a shaky breath, not quite believing his ears, but responding anyway.

“And I love you, too, Jack Kelly.”

This time, Davey kissed him first, and he certainly didn’t feel Jack protesting as the shorter boy kissed him back.

It wasn’t until Sniper wolf-whistled that Davey remembered there were other people in the room. He hid his face in Jack’s shoulder as the room full of their friends actually applauded.

“Okay, okay!” Jack called, waving his hands around for emphasis, “You’se can collect ya bets now, but leave me and my boy alone, hear? We’ll be in my Penthouse if anyone needs me.”

As they left the room, several Newsies clapped Davey on the shoulders or ruffled his hair in encouragement, all calling out their congratulations.

Yeah, Davey decided that in a sea of friendly touches and a few more than friendly touches, he was happy.