#this could have run longer - and I had ideas for a flustered davey

[ejunkiet]

Before the beginning.

okay so this grew into a ficlet all by itself omg, thank you for sending!!

this is the precursor to the davey/asher/babe fic, based on a comment from @dominimoonbeam about how the initial conversation between Asher and Davey might have gone... >:3

rated mature for mature themes, but no specific nsft content.

(it's a bit of fun, really)

--

Hey big guy. It's me. Can we meet?

There’s an edge to Asher’s voice that speaks to his nerves, something that David can catch even through the tinny recording in his voicemail. The message ends as soon as it had started, the prerecorded voice listing off the date and time - twenty minutes ago - as David lowers the phone, thinking over their last few interactions, trying to piece it together.

It's not as if they hadn't met up many times this week. In fact, the latest had been yesterday, at the office with Milo to discuss their latest job. An elemental gig, bigger than their usual - which was good. Word was getting around about Shaw Security, and the business was growing; good news, for the pack as well as him.

But this… the fact that Asher asked to meet means that it's personal. Pack business.

Something he'd missed?

He goes over the events of the last pack meeting as he ducks down to tug on his boots, thinking back to the interactions he’d witnessed, the dynamics between the members. It had all seemed good, which didn’t mean jackshit if they were not willing to be fully open in front of him.

Maybe this was about Christian, and the less-than-subtle ribbing he gave Ash whenever the two of them were together. He’d been hoping they’d work it out, but maybe it was time he put his foot down. Reminded him of his place.

Swiping his phone unlocked, he shoots Asher a text.

D: THE BAR ON MAIN STREET. TWENTY MINUTES.

No less than a second later, he gets Asher's reply

ASH: 👍

Mouth settling into a grim line, he grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa and shoulders it, making his way out of the apartment.

–

“It’s not pack business,” is the first thing Asher says when he sees him and reads the tension in his features, the hard set of his shoulders. There’s a lopsided smile on his face as he tilts his beer towards him - a cheap lager, god knows how he can stomach the stuff - and he seems almost sheepish. “No crisis or anything. Can I get you a drink?”

David thinks he may need one. He hadn't had any real plans for that evening, except going over the plans for the next gig one more time, and by the look on Asher’s face, he’s not sure he’s gonna like the direction he’s planning on taking the conversation.

Setting his jaw, he ignores the offer, giving Ash a hard look. “If this is about me ‘getting a life-’”

“No!” Ash’s hands are up, “I mean, well, you should, buddy - and you know it - but no. That’s not what this is about.”

David waits.

“Are you sure you don't want a drink? Maybe a whiskey? Lemme just-”

“Ash.” There's an edge to his voice, although it’s not a full command, and Asher freezes in place, half-twisted in his seat to flag down the bartender. There’s a flush spreading across his cheeks, his eyes wide as he meets his gaze for a moment, before looking away again, and that… is not the reaction he’d expected.

Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Ash-”

"Babe and I have been talking."

His brow lifts, before the implication of his words settles in, and David’s heart clenches. Shit. But before he can say anything - and fuck, what could he say? He knew how happy Ash was in this relationship, it was easy to see in the way he’d acted over the last nine months - Ash raises both hands, fingers spread wide, his expression almost comically horrified.

“Shit- no. We aren’t- I didn’t mean… christ, I’m bad at this.” He laughs weakly, combing his fingers through his hair - and it was a mess before David even got here, as if he’d been messing with it ever since he’d called. He’s dressed down for the night, wearing jeans and a loose hoodie that downplays the lean strength David knows lies beneath it, his legs bouncing at the knee where he’s perched on the bar stool. “We’re fine. We’re still together. We were just - discussing the future.”

David releases a slow breath. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, or at least as soft as he can make it. So Asher wanted his support in this. He had it, of course he did.

“If you wanted to ask for my approval to tell them, you have it. It won’t take long to make the application, I can help you find the appropriate references-”

“Oh, they already know." David takes a moment to process that, and Ash flushes again, wincing. “Shit. Look, it - it was an accident. I’ll take the remedial class. But seriously, that's not what I called about-”

A low growl builds in his throat. “Just spit it out already, Ash.”

“-we want you to be our third.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the ambient buzz of conversation in the bar surrounding them filling the silence.

“..Your what?”

“Our- third.” The flush has grown on Asher’s cheeks, travelling down his neck, below the collar of his hoodie. “It means- we want you to join us. For a night. For sex.”

Well, fuck. Anything he could have said, that he’d been planning on saying, flies out the window at that.

“...I’ll take that drink now.”

[violetwolfraven]

Hey! I have a couple requests from the prompt thing but imma send them in separately. 46 for Sprace (the having to tell Jack about their relationship one) in canon era please? I love Jack as everyone's older brother it is literally the best thing ever. Maybe he realizes Race keeps going over to Brooklyn and then is super worried and overthinking what he's doing over there so they end up having to explain? Thank you!

Tentatively trying this cause I’m not sure if my writing senses are back yet so if it comes out shitty I apologize.

I’ve actually done this exact prompt twice already with 2 other angles! So here goes Jack finding out about sprace, take 3.

Tw: anxiety.

...

Jack wasn’t stupid, and though running a borough and a union wasn’t exactly easy, he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t notice when one of his kids went missing.

There was a reason Jack was never first in line at the distribution center, and it wasn’t (only) so that Weasel and the Delanceys were already good and annoyed, courtesy of his friends, by the time he got up there.

It was mostly because the extra time from being a few back in the line was good for taking a headcount, making sure everyone who’d left the Lodging House was still there before anyone left to go to their selling spots. Making sure the older boys that were assigned Littles to look after had those Littles with them. Checking for limps or coughs that he hadn’t had time to notice on the way out the door.

It was the same when he checked around every night, making sure everyone was in their beds and checking on anyone who’d seemed sad that day. It was taking care of his friends, because Jack was the oldest and God knew nobody else was taking care of them.

Hell, he called them friends, but they were really more like family. The only family he remembered besides a few vague memories of a mother who’d died when he was young and a father who’d never exactly been a good one. And some of them had been around longer than others, but...

The ones who’d been around the longest, who’d showed up around the same time, when Jack was 7 and they were 6 and 5, respectively, were Crutchie and Race. His brothers even more than the others were. His most trusted friends. His seconds who would one day take over Manhattan when he left.

Jack had been watching over them the longest, so of course he still paid special attention to those two, keeping them close and safe. Even if they could take care of themselves and there were others who objectively needed him more, of course Jack still noticed when they had bad days. He did know them better than practically anyone, after all.

So of course he noticed when one of them started acting weird.

Race always sold in Brooklyn. He had since they were like... 11 and 9, ever since he struck up that deal with a girl who let him sell at Sheepshead. And he always made so much that nobody could tell him to come back and sell in Manhattan.

He always came home right after selling hours ended. And even though Brooklyn was a rougher neighborhood, he always came home safe.

Which was why it was so weird how he turned 15 and a few months later he just suddenly stopped coming home right after selling time, barely making it back before dark, some nights.

And yeah, wanting to take some space and time away from home was a normal teenage thing to do, as far as Jack knew—he’d never gotten the option to do that, being in charge of keeping his kids alive since he was 14—but he was starting to worry that something was seriously wrong, with how Race came back flustered and clearly hiding something.

Then the strike happened, and...

Well, if Race came back late before, it was nothing compared to how he started coming home after dark, barely before midnight, or even staying in Brooklyn overnight, a couple times.

Jack was preoccupied with the rest of the borough, with Katherine as they got caught up in the euphoria of the action and then Sarah as he tried to rebound from getting dumped and then Davey as he finally figured out his own heart, but he still wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t notice one of his seconds staying out all night.

Race wouldn’t tell him why, no matter how much he tried to seem reassuring and supportive of whatever it was. It was like he didn’t trust Jack anymore.

And... and that was fair. Jack had let him down during the strike by making him feel abandoned and betrayed—making all his kids feel that way—but it had seemed to blow over with the others after he explained that he didn’t scab for the money, so why not with Race? What was different that would make him not trust Jack when the others did?

The fear kept creeping in that whatever it was was going to make Race switch boroughs. He was spending an awful lot of time in Brooklyn, and he was hiding something from Jack for practically the first time since they’d met.

Davey told him not to worry, told him it wasn’t as serious as that, but Jack knew Race better.

And plus, Crutchie was worried, too. He told Jack that one night on the fire escape, after they watched Race ‘sneak’ into the house late for the 5th time that month. That it was weird he was spending so much time in Brooklyn and wouldn’t tell either of them why.

What was equally weird was how Albert usually wasn’t considered trustworthy as a secret keeper and yet he wouldn’t tell this one of Race’s despite the fact that he clearly knew. That meant that Race really wanted it kept a secret. It was suspicious.

Which was why Jack was doing something he didn’t do that often; doing something after Davey specifically told him it was a bad idea and not to do it.

The thing was, when a kid who was essentially your little brother kept coming home late, acting distant, and wouldn’t tell you why, you had to take steps. Which was why Jack was following Race to Brooklyn today, from enough of a distance that he hadn’t noticed yet.

He was heading to Sheepshead like he always did, and as Jack watched him throughout the day, he was just selling like any other newsie and placing bets like... well, like Race.

It seemed like there was no reason why he would be staying out late, so why was he..?

By a few hours to the end of the day he’d sold most of his papers already, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was heading under the stands for a break, but...

It started to get suspicious after he’d stayed down there for 20 minutes.

Naturally, Jack’s anxieties popped up again, wondering what if he’s hurt and he’s hiding it what if he’s in trouble what if he’s talking to a Brooklyn kid about switching boroughs and he snuck down to where he knew Race usually hung out, staying quiet as he could and feeling stupid but still also feeling the need to go keep following.

Given that he trusted Race despite his insecurities, Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find.

But whatever he was expecting, it definitely was not Race sitting against a stable wall, holding hands and trading lazy, carefree kisses with the King of Brooklyn like they didn’t care about the law or the summer heat or... anything.

It clearly wasn’t the first time and everything made sense now.

Neither of them noticed Jack was standing there, which was partially shocking and partially just... Jack didn’t know what. He had no idea what was going on right now and shock was all he was feeling.

He cleared his throat, “So...”

Race and Spot jumped, and one of them yelped as they shoved apart, getting to their feet.

“Jack?”

Race’s voice was an octave higher than usual. Spot had put himself between the two of them, which was... kind of odd to realize he was that protective, but good? Jack was still so confused.

But he knew Race looked scared, and as much as he was trying to hide it, so did Spot. He couldn’t have that.

“Whoa,” Jack put his hands up, “I ain’t tellin’ nobody. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, cause if ya did, I’d tell everybody ‘bout you and Mouth,” Spot shot back.

“Spot, back off,” Race muttered under his breath, and Jack tried to swallow his panic. He didn’t know how Spot had found out about him and Davey, but it didn’t seem like a good thing that he knew.

Yeah... he really should have listened when Davey told him not to follow Race.

But shockingly, it looked like Spot was backing off. Like he was relaxing under the touch of Race’s hand on his shoulder. That only made Jack feel a little better, but he guessed Spot did have a reason to be defensive. If Jack outed him, it would probably get him killed.

It was dangerous to be queer, period, and it was even more dangerous when you were running the bloodiest borough in New York. And that meant it was dangerous for Race, too, but...

This did explain why he’d been spending so much time over here.

The three of them had already been standing in silence way too long when Race sighed, moving in front of Spot and making eye contact with Jack.

“I’m almost 16, Jack,” he said firmly, “I can do what I want and I don’t care if ya don’t approve. So if you’s got a problem with—“

“No,” Jack said quickly, “No, I... can we head back to Manhattan? Talk on the way?”

Spot tensed up, and the look he and Race exchanged was clearly a question and reassurance. A ‘do you want me to fight for you?’ and ‘no, I can handle this.’

Jack knew those kinds of looks because he’d exchanged similar ones with Davey plenty of times, even before they got together officially.

It was weird to think that if Race had started staying out late because of this, that meant he’d had a fella longer than Jack had, but that was something to have a crisis over another day.

When he turned back to Jack, he nodded, squeezing Spot’s hand before walking over, leading the way back towards home.

They didn’t start talking until they were on the bridge.

“How long?”

Race shrugged, not meeting Jack’s eyes, “A couple months before the strike, we’s had a fight that ended in us makin’ out. So... dependin’ on how ya look at it, since then?”

“What do ya mean, ‘dependin’ on how ya look at it?’”

“Well, at first, it was just physical. Y’know, makin’ out and not talkin’ about it? Then we finally had a real talk right after the strike and got on the same page ‘bout what we wanted and now it’s... more than that.”

As weird as it was to think about, Jack could tell by his tone what he meant by ‘more than that.’

It hurt that Race hadn’t told him, and more that he and Spot were putting themselves in danger just by being together, but...

“You love him, don’t ya?” he asked slowly.

Race tensed up for a second, then stopped walking, leaning against the edge of the bridge and staring out at the water.

“What’d ya say if I did?”

Jack hated the traces of fear the younger boy was trying to hide. He never wanted to make one of his feel that way.

Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Race being in danger, or of anyone being in a position to hurt him, but he and Spot were... well, now that Jack was thinking about it, they made sense in an abstract kind of way. Race could destroy someone in a battle of wits as fast as Spot could in a physical fight. They were both tough and both leaders, though in different ways. Spot hadn’t joined the strike right away out of concern for Brooklyn’s kids. Race had helped start it out of concern for Manhattan’s.

Jack had to admit, even if no one could know about them, they were a hell of a power couple.

“He treats ya right, yeah?” he asked quietly, “And you’s bein’ careful—not gettin’ caught?”

Race nodded, “Yeah, of course. Hotshot knows—Brooklyn’s second—he covers for us if needed. And Spot’d never hurt me. Even when we was just friends, let alone now.”

“Albert knows, too, don’t he?”

“Uh...yeah. And Romeo figured out I was sweet on someone and wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him who it was, so he knows. And Kath walked in on us once.”

Aside from the fact that Jack could not believe Katherine didn’t tell him...

“Maybe you’s shouldn’t make out where people can walk in on ya.”

Race laughed, “That might be smart.”

He got serious again a little too quickly to be as fine as he was pretending be. Jack walking in on them before he was ready to tell had clearly shaken him.

Jack now felt pretty stupid for following him over here. He should‘ve listened to Davey.

“I thought you was thinkin’ about switchin’ boroughs.”

“What? No,” Race said quickly, a little too defensively, “Manhattan’s my home. My family. I wouldn’t just leave. I’m supposed to take over someday—with Crutchie, I mean. I’d never just abandon that.”

“I know,” Jack said, trying to reassure him, “I didn’t think it was you runnin’ from responsibility. I know you’re stronger than me, Racer. I thought... I thought it was cause... cause of me. Cause I let ya down in the strike.”

“Jack...”

He seemed to be struggling for words, but every second where he didn’t say anything made Jack feel worse.

“It was scary,” he admitted finally, “Yeah. I was runnin’ Manhattan alone all sudden-like and that was scary. I didn’t even have Crutchie, and Davey was tryin’ to help but he didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t like you always told me it’d be like when I ended up in command and I didn’t understand why—you always seemed like the one who’d stand by the rest of us no matter what. You promised you wouldn’t just leave with no warnin’.”

Jack felt terrible for that. He knew, firsthand, how hard it was having to take a command he never asked for with no warning. He’d had to take over the borough when he was 14, after his mentor died.

He’d never wanted that for Race or Crutchie. He’d always told himself that if he ever actually went to Santa Fe, he wouldn’t leave them hanging like that. He’d give them at least a couple weeks to prepare, ideally transition authority gradually so he could be sure they were ready and they’d be able to take care of the others.

Jack took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Racer.”

“There was about to be a ‘but.’”

“Oh. Okay. Go ahead.”

“But,” Race said, “Jack, yeah, you scared me, but... ya told me that night. You did it for Davey. Why’d ya think I actually got the others to help?”

“Cause you knew we needed to win the strike quick before we all starved?” Jack asked, “And Kath’s article was the best chance?”

He shook his head, “No. It was cause blood be damned, you’re my big brother. You’s been there protectin’ me and Crutchie and the others since we was Littles. I already wanted to believe ya had a good reason. I didn’t trust you a ton just then, but I wanted to. And once you explained... I got it. I get it. Cause I’d do the same thing for Spot if I had to.”

By implying that what he and Spot had was like what Jack and Davey had...

Race knew how hard it was for Jack to let down his guard. So he knew what a big deal it was that he did with Davey. He knew they had a connection even beyond the connection Jack had with any of the others.

Jack was glad he’d found that. Someone he could understand and connect with. Even if the idea of it kind of made him uncomfortable.

“I know Spot and me don’t always get along,” he admitted, “But I trust your judgement and I know you can take care of yourself, so... I’m happy for ya, Racer.”

Race smiled a little, “Thanks.”

“Plus,” Jack bumped him gently as they started walking again, “I saw the way he looks at ya. Most people would kill to have someone they love look at them like that.”

“You mean like how Davey looks at you?” Race asked cheekily, bumping him back.

Jack smiled, mostly to himself. Davey was going to enjoy saying ‘I told you so’ when Jack told him he was right that he shouldn’t have worried.

...wait. Davey had seemed 100% sure that Race was fine. And he knew how dumb the younger boy could be, so it was unlikely it was because he trusted Race’s judgement.

“Wait, does Davey know?”

“Uh...” Race laughed awkwardly, “He mighta caught me sneakin’ back into the Lodgin’ House a couple weeks ago. And he gave me that look—y’know the one—where he looks all disappointed? He asked where I was and I panicked and said I was with Spot, so... I didn’t exactly tell him, but he probably guessed?”

“Yeah, cause he ain’t a dumbass.”

It was a little surprising that he hadn’t told Jack even if it was just a guess, but...

“I asked him not to tell ya,” Race admitted, “Or Crutchie. Cause I didn’t know how you’d react. That probably... also clued him in.”

“Oh, Crutchie’s gonna wanna scare the shit out of Spottie boy when he finds out.”

Race laughed kind of nervously, the smile fading from his face pretty quick.

“I ain’t gonna tell him if you don’t want me to,” Jack added quickly, “And he’ll be fine with it when he does find out. He knows you’s can take care of yourself, same as me. He’ll still wanna give Spot a shovel talk, though. Matter of fact, so do I.”

“Well, I knows Spot can handle a shovel talk.”

He was still hesitating, and Jack was tempted to ask what he was so afraid to say.

They were almost back to the Lodging House by the time he did.

“You’s really okay with this?” he asked, “Me and Spot? You ain’t gonna freak out?”

Jack threw an arm around his little brother, “Race, long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

[we-cant-fight-gravity]

*approaches the counter* hi can I get uhhhh... Javier headcanons about him reacting to you bringing him a new bowler hat because his last one has a huge bullet hole in it? Or bringing him a new knife because his was lost during a quick getaway? And like you try to play it as not being a huge deal even tho you think about him constantly. Pls + thanks 🙏🏻!

Who am I to deny you of wholesome Javier content anon??? I love my knife babey so I had to incorporate that, but I love the hat idea as well! I’m kind of unsure about how this turned out, but I still hope you enjoy :)) My ask box is open and I’d love to get some new requests, so feel free to drop something in there !

Víbora - Javier Escuella x Reader Headcanons

The escape from Blackwater was rushed and frantic, and to be frank, Javier was lucky to be alive. There were others in the gang that couldn’t say as much. Sean, Jenny, Mac and now Davey? The whole thing was a fucking mess.

In spite of that, there was a part of him that yearned for the material possessions he had left behind. It was only a small part of him, but it still left him questioning himself. People fucking died, and he couldn’t take his mind off of useless objects? Pathetic.

Still, he couldn’t help but bring his thoughts back to the items he had left in the small chest beneath his cot. It was mostly newspaper cuttings and photographs; things that had no value to anyone other than himself.  And while the thought of losing those memories hurt, what he was most upset with losing was his family’s knife.

The Escuella family knife was a real thing of beauty. With a handle of solid ebony and a blade of shining silver, it could line the pockets of any man willing to part with it. But Javier didn’t want it for the money. It’d been in the Escuella family for hundred years or better, originally belonging to his grandfather’s great-grandfather. Javier had planned on presenting the knife to his own eldest child when they became of age, as tradition dictated.

But the tradition was all but dead now, seeing as the heirloom was miles away, most likely stowed in the belt of a Pinkerton. To be truthful, Javier would rather have the knife in a thousand pieces than in the hands of one of those slimy bastards. At least that way, his own legacy couldn’t be used against him.

It wasn’t until you and the rest of the gang settled in Horseshoe Overlook that you noticed there was something bothering him. The usually chatty and upbeat man had been slinking silently around the camp, sticking to the outskirts as if to avoid contact with others.

You found him just outside of camp one evening, leaning against a tree, bottle of whisky in hand. At first, he was hesitant to talk about his dampened spirits, assuring you that you shouldn’t have to shoulder his burdens. But it wasn’t hard to convince him otherwise. You suspected it was the drink going to his head. But, maybe it was because he actually trusted you enough to vent. Either way, you were eager to listen to what he had to say.

He almost seemed embarrassed to tell you the reason for his somber mood. The knife, he explained, was one of the only things he had on his person when he left Mexico; and he had convinced himself that it was a token of luck.

You could very much empathize with Javier. You left a lot of valuable and sentimental things back in Blackwater as well. But to lose such an important family heirloom would be devastating. You assured him that his feelings were very rational for someone in his situation. 

He seemed almost surprised by your sympathetic reaction. There was some small part of him that expected you to mock him for being upset over something so small in the grand scheme of things.

You stayed with him for a while longer, talking about anything and everything. Before heading back to camp, he pulled you into a quick hug and thanked you for lending him your ear for a while. You laughed nervously into his chest. He pulled away and you assured him that he could seek you out any time to have another chat. He chuckled, noticing the blush across your cheeks. You were so easy to fluster.

As he turned to walk away, he made a comment about possibly taking you up on the offer. He looked back at you, the smirk across his face bordering on devilish. You gave an awkward nod in return, not quite knowing what to say. You really were putty in his hands.

Javier’s mood had improved somewhat after your conversation, but he still sulked around camp, his knife sheath empty. 

You couldn’t deny that you’d always felt a strong physical attraction to Javier. What you didn’t realize, however, was the amount of joy and goodwill he brought into your life until it was gone. His constant joking, smooth talking and your botched attempts at flirting back somehow made the days seem shorter and less boring. 

Marston had dragged you into Valentine to peruse the local gunsmith when you saw it. It was nowhere near as beautiful as Javier’s knife, but it looked very similar. The only major difference being an engraving of a viper on the blade, inlaid in blued steel. 

You asked the gunsmith about the piece, and he proudly informed you that he was the one who engraved it. Its price tag was a whopping $45, but he knocked it down to $35 because you seemed so enthused. He also agreed to engrave the initials J.E. at the bottom of the blade for free.

John gave you a questioning look as you dug the money out of your satchel, but you ignored him. He wouldn’t understand human decency and the concept of gift giving if it slapped him across the face.

You approached Javier that night, as he sat alone by the campfire, strumming his guitar idly. The look on his face as you handed him the knife was that of pure shock. He immediately set the instrument aside to admire his new piece of weaponry. 

He couldn’t get over the engraving of the snake. He kept running his finger over it, as though he somehow expected it to slither away. His focus then moved to the crudely engraved initials at the base of the blade. His gaze shifted from the knife to your face, his dark eyes full of nothing but adoration. 

‘You didn’t have to do this,’ was the only thing he could think to say. He’d always figured that you had a soft spot for him, not that it was hard to tell. You constantly gravitated towards him, and he could hardly say anything to you without you turning beet red. He assumed it was a crush. A child-like infatuation that would fade. But that theory was questioned now that you’d gone and done something like this. He’d never really had anyone who actually cared for him before. He always seemed to be good at catching people’s attention, but he could never quite get it to linger. 

When you tried to play it off as nothing, Javier brought up the price of the knife. Something so stunning must have cost a decent chunk of change, no? 

‘It wasn’t about the money,’ you argued. You wracked your brain for a lame excuse. The best you could come up with was: ‘I just couldn’t have you out there without a decent knife. I’d be worried sick.’

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. He shoved the knife into the sheath strapped on his thigh and pulled you in for another hug. This time it was tighter. He thanked you, though you could barely hear the sentiment over the thumping in your chest.

Javier still did miss the knife he left back in Blackwater; it was a piece of his family’s history. But as he looked down at the knife that had replaced it, he thought of the future. More specifically, his future with you. Maybe one day when this all died down, he would saunter back into Blackwater and search for it. But until then, he was pretty fucking content. 

[dontjudgemepeepswrites]

Flustered - Jack Kelly x Reader

y/n - your name

y/s/n - your surname

--------------------------------

The rally's practically started and Jack's not here yet. No one's seen him since he went to talk to Pulitzer. And that was a few hours ago!

Spot spit shakes me and Davey. This is actually happening. Holy crap.

"Welcome, newsies of New York City. Welcome to my theatre and your revolution!" Medda announces, causing roars of cheers from the newsies.

"Let's hear it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn!" Davey adds, and rightfully so. I mean, if it weren't for them, we wouldn't have any other newsies.

"Newsies united! Let's see what Pulitzer has to say to you now," Spot says smugly.

"Hey, Davey, y/n, where's Jack?" Finch asks.

"Yeah! We want Jack! Where is he?!" the other newsies ask.

"Sorry, no sign of him yet. Looks like it's down to you two for now," Medda says sympathetically.

"Newsies of New York!" I yell, getting everyone's attention. Everyone shuts up when I get there attention because everyone knows they'll get soaked if they don't. "Look at what we've done! We've got newsies from every pape and every neighbourhood here tonight. Tonight, you're making history." Cheers are heard throughout the theatre.

"Tonight we declare that we're just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor. We're done being treated like kids. From now on, they will treat us as equals," Davey adds, making the cheers grow even louder.

"You wanna be talked to like an adult? Then start actin' like one. Don't just run your mouth. Make some sense," a voice inputs. I turn to said voice and see Jack. Thank goodness he's finally here.

"And here's Jack!" Davey announces, clearly as relieved as me.

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" chanted the newsies.

"Alright, Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us. That was a lousy thing to do. So we got mad and let 'em know we ain't gonna be pushed around. So we go on strike. Then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price so's we'll go back to work! And a few weeks later he hikes the price back up again, and don't think he won't. So what do we do then? And what do we do if he decides to raise his price again after that?" The cheers are now nonexistent and everyone is giving each other confused glances, including me and Davey. Where did this come from? Did Pulitzer do something? Fellas, we gotta be realistic. We don't work, we don't get paid. How many days can you go without makin' money? However long, believe me, Pulitzer can go longer." The booing starts. "But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer and he has given me his word: if we disband the union--" Now he's done it. The booing gets louder, starting to drown him out. "-- he will not raise prices again for two years. He will even put it in writing. I say we take the deal. Go back to work knowing our price is secure. All we need to do is vote 'no' on the strike. Vote 'no'!" he finishes, but I can barely hear him over the booing and and screaming in my head.

He heads to the wings, obviously overwhelmed by the booing, but I see him take a wad of cash from a man. He looks back at us, making eye contact with me. "y/n," he says, but I run away. I can't deal with this. I run all the way back to the lodging, Jack following me the entire way, yelling my name. I'm concentrating on trying not to cry and yell so much that I subconsciously climb to Jack's 'penthouse', cornering myself. This is when I give up and collapse in the corner, tears racing down my face. I hear footsteps. He's here.

"What. What do you want?" I snap. He take a few steps back, obviously scared.

"I just want to talk," he answers.

"You don't deserve to talk. You stabbed us in the back. You sold us out to Pulitzer! You've ruined everything we made!"

"I had to! I didn't have a choice!"

"Oh yeah? And what was that choice may I ask? Hmm? Was it 'win the strike and everything we've been working for or sell us out just so you can go to Santa Fe'?"

"If I didn't make that speech, they were gonna take everyone to the refuge! They were gonna take Les! Davey! Race! They were gonna take you," his voice cracks during the last sentence, indicating that he was crying.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Ask Katherine! She was there!"

"Why was she there?!"

"Because she's Pulitzer's daughter!"

"Oh... that... ok..."

"Seriously? You're chill with that?!"

"Pulitzer has eyes all over the city, why would he need his daughter to be a spy? I trust her and you should too."

"Why?"

"Because it's my gut instinct. And my gut is never wrong. Besides, together we came up with a plan to finish our revolution! To win our revolution."

"I don't know..."

"You've not even heard it yet. Is it because a girl came up with it?"

"I didn't say noth--"

"This would be a good time to shut up. Being boss doesn't mean you always have the answers,just the brains to recognise the right one when you hear it."

"I'm listening."

"Good for you. The strike was your idea, the rally was Davey's, and now mine and Katherine's plan will take us to the finish line. Deal with it," I say, handing him the poster Katherine and I designed.

"'The Children's Crusade'," he reads.

"For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory and slaughter house on New York, I beg you... join us," I recite. "With those words, the strike stopped being just about the Newsies. You challenged our whole generation to stand up and demand a place at the table."

"'The Children's Crusade'?"

"Think, Jack, if we publish this, Katherine's words..." I look around and see where he keeps his drawings. "... with one of your drawings, and if every worker under twenty-one read it and stayed home from work... or better yet, came to Newsie Square - a general city-wide strike! Even Pulitzer couldn't ignore that."

"Only one small problem: we got no way to print it."

"Oh come on, there has to be one printing press he doesn't control."

"Oh no," he says after a pause, then letting out some sort of snort/laugh thing.

"What?"

"I know where there's a printing press that no one would think we'd ever use."

"Then let's go!" I exclaim excitedly, starting to climb down. It's strange ho much my mood's changed since I came up. "Wait. No, I need to talk to you about something else."

"Yeah, me too actually."

"You first."

"Um, ok. What's this about? Not the crusade. What's this about? Am I kiddin' myself or is there something..." he asks, motioning to us.

"I don't know. That's what I was gonna ask. So I guess so," I say calmly as if it's nothing.

"Well don't say it like this happens everyday!"

"Ja--"

"I'm not an idiot. I know that guys like me don't wind up with people like you. I mean, I know we're both newsies, but we're so different. And I don't want you promisin' nothin' you gotta take back later. But standin' here tonight... lookin' at you... I'm scared tomorrow's gonna come and change everything."

"Why would it change everything?"

"Cause the world is unfair like that. But... if there was a way I could grab hold of something to make time stop. Just so's I could keep looking at you."

"You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming."

"For sure?"

"For sure," I echo.

"Till the moment I found you I thought I knew what love was Now I'm learning what is true: Love will do what it does The world finds ways to sting you And then one day decides to bring you

Something to believe in For even a night One night may be forever But that's alright That's alright And if you're gone tomorrow What was ours still will be I have something to believe in Now that I know you believed in me," I sing.

"We was never meant to meet And then we meet Who knows why One more stranger on the street Just someone sweet passing by An angel come to save me Who didn't even know they gave me

Something to believe in For even a day One day may be forever But that's okay That's okay And if I'm gone tomorrow What was ours still will be I have something to believe in Now that I know you believed in me," he sings.

"Do you know what I believe in Look into my eyes and see," we sing together, staring into each other's eyes.

He leans towards me and crashes his lips onto mine but he pulls away all too quickly.

"If things were different..." he starts.

"If you weren't going to Santa Fe," I finish.

"And if I wasn't having to be careful with every step I take so Snyder and Pulitzer don't get me."

"You're not really scared of them," I tease.

"No," he says. "But I am pretty scared of you."

"Don't be," I laugh.

"And if I'm gone tomorrow..." he continues singing.

"What was ours still will be," I sing.

"I have something to believe in Now that I know you believed in me," we sing together.

"I have something to believe in," he restates.

"Now that I know you believed in me," we finish together, before being engulfed into a hug.

*after the strike's won (y'all know what I don't fill in)*

"With the strike settled, I should probably be hitting the road," Jack sighs. Katherine, Davey and I move towards him, ready to try and convince him to stay.

"Don't you ever get tired of singing that same old tune? What's Santa Fe got that New York hasn't? Tarantulas?" Davey asks.

"Better yet: what's New York got that Santa Fe ain't?" Katherine asked.

"New York's got us," I say.

"And we're family," the newly released Crutchie adds.

"Didn't I hear something about the strike being settled?" Pulitzer bellows before finally leaving.

"Papes for the newsies. Line up. These papes ain't gonna sell themselves," Weasel says.

"Well, don't just stand there, you've got a union to run. Besides, didn't someone just offer you a pretty exciting job?" I tease.

"Me? Work for Pulitzer?"

"You already work for Pulitzer."

"Oh, yeah."

"And you've got one more ace up your sleeve."

"What would that be?"

"Me. Wherever you go, I'm right there by your side."

"For sure?"

"For sure."

"Don't take much to be a dreamer All you do is close your eyes Now my eyes is fin'lly open And my dreams, they's av'rage size But they don't much matter if you ain't with me," he sings, before pulling me into a long, passionate kiss.

"Guys!" I hear Les say, causing catcalls and whistles to be heard. We pull away shortly.

"Well, Jack, you in or you out?" Davey asks. Jack walks away from me and to Weasel, slamming his 50 cents onto the table before grabbing his papes and dragging me away. I guess I'm selling with him today then.

"Hey, Jack, did you really mean all that?" I ask.

"What d'you mean?"

"When you said that your dreams don't matter if I ain't with you?" I clarify. A red dusts his cheeks. I fake gasp. "Is the Jack Kelly blushing?! Tough guy Jack Kelly isn't so tough after all," I tease.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll give you a nickname," he playfully threatens.

"You wouldn't dare!" I respond, fake gasping again. The reason that I don't have a nickname is because I didn't want one. It's as simple as that. "But in all seriousness, is it true?"

"Of course it's true. I don't know when I first fell in love with you, but I realised it when we were in the refuge together and I saw how strong you are."

"You love me?"

"I-- um-- I-" he starts, obviously flustered.

"I love you too. And you're cute when you're flustered, y'know that, right?"

"Shuddup," he mumbles, still flustered and blushing.

"Hey guys, have you seen Alb-- is Jack blushing?" Race asks, coming up to us and seeing Jack's flustered face.

"Pfft, no. I'm not blushing," Jack states, trying to revive his tough persona.

"Yes you are. y/n, what did ya say?" Race asks. Jack looks at me in a way that says 'don't tell him'. I know what I have to do.

"Some rando just punched 'im but we managed to get 'im," I lie, deciding to save Jack for now.

"I'll believe you this time, but I'm keeping my eyes on you two..." he says, slowly backing away, glaring at us suspiciously.

"Thanks y/n, if they knew that it was because I confessed by accident, I'd never hear the end of it," Jack says after Race is out of earshot.

"Aha! I'm telling everyone! Also, Jack, you're whipped," Race says before running away. He obviously wasn't out of earshot.

"Dammit."

"I mean, you told him, not me."

"Sometimes I hate you, y/s/n," Jack rolls his eyes.

"Ouch, using the last name, that hurts. And don't lie, we both know you love me," I tease.

"Shuddup," he mumbles, once again flustered.

"You say that a lot when you get flustered, don't ya," I smirk.

"Pfft, no."

[writingevanhansen]

A Performance to Remember (Actress!Reader x Davey Jacobs)

okay so i know my user is writingevanhansen but like...newsies is a thing that i want to write for. so here we are.

requested by: ME lol

Word Count: 1,756

Summary: You are a new actress working for Medda, and Davey sees you perform at your first show.

Brushing your hair back, you stare at your reflection and go over the words to your song for what felt like the millionth time. You quietly mumble the tune to yourself, pinning your hair into place. It was your debut performance Medda, and she graciously gave you a solo, even though it was your first show with her. You placed your makeup brush in some powder, singing a little more confidently. Glancing over to your right, you noticed that your costume was missing. A gentle hand was placed on your shoulder, and you turned around with a smile, thankful to see Medda’s familiar face. You could tell she knew you were anxious by the concerned look she wore.

“Now honey, tell me, why are you so nervous?” She said, rubbing your back. You shrugged, folding your hands in your lap.

“I just...Medda, what if they don’t like me? What if I forget my words or get boo’d? What if I fall off of the stage? Just...What then?” All of the ways your performance could go wrong began to swarm in your head. Medda shook her head.

“Hun, you’re just gonna have to step out there and leave it all out on the stage. Forget that the audience is there and be yourself! You’ve done it perfectly so many times during rehearsals, and I wouldn’t have given you a solo if I didn’t know you could handle it.” She leaned around your shoulders and squeezed. You placed your hands on her arms and leaned into the hug.

“Thank you, Ms. Medda.” You said with a smile. Before you could ask her where your costume was, you got cut off.

“Ms. Medda! How are you?” A newsboy came running down the stairs, approaching Medda with open arms. He was followed by two more boys: one that was very obviously younger, and another that caught your eye. He wore a button up and a vest, with a striped tie around his neck. His hair was neatly brushed under his hat, unlike the other two. Just by looking at him, you felt butterflies start to form in your stomach and your heart begin to quicken. It took every ounce within you to stop staring and to begin focusing on your makeup again. Before you could turn back, however, Davey’s eyes caught yours. Flustered, you looked away immediately, turning back to the mirror.

Davey, however, kept staring, struck by your beauty. Your dress was simple, and he couldn’t help but to admire how you looked in it. Jack discussed Medda’s next backdrop as Les listened, and by some power, Davey began to approach you. He didn’t know what he was doing. Nobody knew what he was doing. But he knew he couldn’t leave without saying something to you.

Your breath hitched when you looked up from your makeup and saw Davey next to you. You stared at the boy with wide eyes. He was even prettier up person. His lips, his eyes, especially his nose.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m David Jones.” He said. You smiled softly. David was a wonderful name.

“I’m (Y/N).” Davey smiled. He stared at you, breathless. There was a few beats of silence because he forgot why he came over. Oh, right! He had no idea why. Quickly, he began to think of a talking point.

“I-I’m sorry if I’m taking up your time, but, are...are you new here? I’ve been to Medda’s before and I haven’t seen you around.” You nodded.

“Yes, tonight will be my first performance! Are you staying for the show?” Davey hadn’t considered it; he had seen a lot of Medda’s shows and wanted to make sure Les could get home in time for bed, but he might just have to stay tonight.

Davey nodded. “Yeah! That’s why we dropped by.”

“Hey, Davey! You ready to go? Or are you too busy talking up poor (Y/N) over there?” Jack called. Davey screamed internally, and you laughed.

“Change of plans?” You asked with a smile. Davey chuckled.

“Well, you caught me.” You shrugged, smiling at Davey’s response. “I think I’ll stay anyways, if the boys don’t mind. I’ll go ask ‘em.” Davey strolled away as you watched. You placed your head in your hand as you waited for him to come back. He was really, really attractive. Just the way he held himself was cute to you. Was that weird? Davey walked back quickly.

“Good news!” He said. “We’re all staying,” Davey rubbed his hand on the back of his head, “...and I think a few others are coming, too.” You kicked your legs a little at his response, not dropping your smile.

“Who are the few others?”

Davey sighed. “A few boys that we sell papers with. They’re nothing to worry about, though. They’ll all be well behaved and good audience members!” You nodded.

“(Y/N), sweetie, half hour ‘till call!” Medda called, sending a wink in your direction. You nodded.

“Thank you, Ms. Medda!” You said back. You turned to Davey, and you were pleasantly surprised when you saw that he was bowing.

“Well, Ms. (Y/N), I’ll leave you to your work. I’ll be in the audience cheering you on!” Davey stood up straight, and you swear you could’ve swooned right there.

“Maybe I could see you after the show? If things go well?” You asked. Davey’s cheeks turned pink.

“I’d be there even if things went terribly.” Davey tried to sound smooth, but the comment didn’t feel right when he said it out loud. “I mean-not that they will! I’m sure you’ll be amazing! You look amazing, so, I mean, not that your looks equal how talented you are, I just mean-”

“Thank you, Davey.” You cut him off, reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze. He smiled and walked back to join Jack and Les, and they all walked off together to greet a few of the other boys. Your makeup is finished, and now you had to find the costume that seemingly walked off. You approached Ms. Medda, who was fixing her hat in a mirror.

“Ms. Medda, I can’t find the dress I picked out. Do you know where it may be?”

“Oh, lands, that thing? I put it in storage. I couldn’t let you go on wearing that.” Honestly, you weren’t that surprised. It was fairly simple, especially in comparison to Medda’s taste.

“Do I need to wear what I’m wearing now, then?” Medda laughed.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to show you your new costume! Follow me, sweetheart.”

From her dressing room, Medda pulled out a navy blue leotard covered in silver crystals to form a stunning pattern. A small bunch of silver fabric was placed above where your tush would go. A matching pair of silver heels, some tights, a blue feather, and a silver fan was also placed in your arms. Flustered, you argued the ensemble.

“I don’t think anyone would want to see me wear this! It’s quite showy and I’m just not the...showy type of gal, y’know?” You said. Medda shook her head and led you towards a corner where you could change.

“If you aren’t showy gal then why are you in this show?” She laughed. “At least try it on. I guarantee that you’ll like it.”

Sure enough, once you stepped into view of a mirror, you loved how you looked. The blue was flattering on you, and though you never thought you could pull it off, you felt confident in the costume. Medda smiled and gave you a hug. “That’s my star!” She shouted, and you beamed. “Alright, sweetie,” She pulled away from the hug and placed her hands on your shoulders. “Remember. When you step onto that stage, just let go. If the audience cheers, you’re doing something right. Soak it up, and let it power your performance. You are wonderful!” She hugged you again, when the stage manager busted in.

“Ms. Medda! Places!” He shouted. Giving you one last squeeze, she glided out the door and onto the stage. From where you were standing, you could hear the large audience shout. Your stomach filled with nerves once again, but you let out a sigh and placed the feather in your hair.

“Ms. (Y/N), it’s almost time. Are you ready?”

With one last glance in the mirror, you nodded. You walked and stood in the wings, watching Medda shine. You took a deep breath and smiled. You were proud of yourself! You were no longer nervous and were rather excited. That was, until you remembered who was out there. You suddenly felt as if you melted into a pile of nerves. You had totally forgotten that Davey was in the audience, and now he was going to see you dressed like this! You paused and thought it over. ...Was that really such a bad thing?

As Medda took a bow, Davey clapped and cheered with the others boys. Jack, Davey, Les, Romeo, Race, and Albert all sat in an empty box, enjoying each moment. The lights came up, and the piano glistened. There was a single spotlight on a girl with her back turned to the audience. Her costume was, well, revealing, but very classy. The music picked up and the girl whipped around, using her large fan as a guide. Davey tensed. The girl was you. Race whistled and Romeo clapped. Davey gave a playful punch to both. “Ay!��� Race muttered. “What’s the big idea?”

“Be respectful!” Davey whispered. Race rolled his eyes.

“Is that the girl you were talking about?” Romeo asked. Davey’s said nothing, but his face turned a deep red. Jack smirked, knowing his friend had it bad.

“Well, she is soitenly a sight for sore eyes!” Race said with a smirk. Race gasped for air, grabbing his side. Davey had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ay, Davey. Calm. We all know she’s off limits now cuza you.” Jack said, smiling at his lovestruck friend.

But Davey didn’t hear. He was enthralled in your performance. The way you sang, the way you danced, the way you...looked. The lights shone off of your costume, and the crystals reflected all around the theater. Davey’s eyes never left you for one second.

When the music cut off, and you were alone on the stage again, the audience cheered, Davey most of all. He even gave you a standing ovation (and Les, too).

When he sat back down, Davey turned to Jack. “That’s the girl I’m gonna marry.”

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

A javid fic that's sickeningly sweet and fluffly,

Weddings are super fluffy, right?

Shoutout to @timetogoslumming for letting me steal a couple of her ideas from when we discussed this fic

Davey went into the weekend hoping nothing could possibly gowrong. Not truly wrong, at least. Things could be left not packed and forgottenat home, mistakes could be made by the florist or the caterer, or their friendscould cause havoc at the little hotel they had chosen to get married in, butnothing was going to be able to ruin the weekend of his wedding.

Then the receptionist had taken one look at them, with thedifferent surnames on the check-in form, and smiled sweetly.

“You’ll be wanting a room with separate beds, I assume?” sheasked, bright and happy as anything.

Davey felt his stomach sink down to his toes. Eight yearstogether and they still got mistaken for friends or, worse, brothers. It alwaysmade a quick burst of shame bloom deep inside, but it had gotten easier andeasier to stamp out over the years. All he had to do now was grab Jack’s handand clear his throat.“I’d rather not spend my wedding night in a different bed to my husband, no,”he answered a little coldly, taking a step closer to his fiancé.

At the same time Jack just scowled and informed the womanthat ‘we’re gay’ in as few words aspossible. It was one of the few times he never bothered to make the point thathe was bi and in love with a man, and not actually gay.

Flustered, the woman was quick to apologise when sherealised that she’d just offended the grooms of the wedding they had booked forthe very next day. She was clearly embarrassed about it as she checked them inand showed them to their room but even though she was still saying sorry as sheleft them alone, Davey felt uncomfortable about it. He tried to appreciate the fancyroom with its beams and ornate arm chairs and huge comfortable bed, but he justsank down onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed. He couldn’t believe that,even on the day before his wedding, people couldn’t tell how happily in love hewas.

“Babe, are you okay?” Jack asked, getting concerned when hetook in Davey’s sad pout.

“Yeah,” Davey sighed. “Just…” He gestured over to the doorthe woman had left out of and Jack suddenly understood.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling Davey up and into a hug andhating that heteronormativity was still a thing.

Davey relaxed against Jack’s shoulder, enjoying the comfortand the closeness. He was going to marry an incredibly empathetic man who feltlike home and safe and a hundred other things he never thought he’d find, andthe reminder of it had him cheering up already.

“I’m honestly surprised she couldn’t tell we’re togetherbecause I’m so in love with you, David Jacobs, that it feels like I’moverflowing with it. I don’t know how she couldn’t tell just by looking at me,”Jack whispered, right beside Davey’s ear so the warmth of his breath hadpleasant shivers running down Davey’s back.

“Nerd,” Davey replied, starting to smile again. All he everneeded was Jack.

Jack pushed back on Davey’s shoulders gently until he gotthe message and fell back onto the bed, cushioning his fall with the elbows –although the plush duvet could probably have managed the job alone. Jackcrawled up over him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. This was more likethe weekend he’d been hoping for.

“Your nerd,” he offered with a grin.“Yes.” Davey nodded, pulling Jack down for a much longer kiss.

They couldn’t spend the whole day making out, of course.Eventually they had to abandon their huge, comfortable bed and go and greet theguests arriving at the hotel for their wedding. It was better to not have thetemptation of privacy and a large bed, anyway. They’d agreed on no sex fromwhen they got to the hotel until their wedding night; it was less than 40 hoursbut Davey was already starting to regret it. Sex helped when he was feelingstressed and he was quickly realising there was nothing more stressful thanplanning a wedding. He was just grateful they’d shot down his mother’s idea ofspending the night before the wedding apart. She’d insisted it was traditionbut the idea of having to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right beside Jack on thenight before what was supposed to be the biggest day of his life sounded likehell to Davey, so it was one tradition he was happy to abandon. It wasn’t likethere was a bride to not see before the wedding.

All of their friends and the majority of their families hadmade it out for their big day, and Davey loved having everyone he cared aboutin one place. It was easy to forget he was anxious when he had so many peopleteasing him about becoming a married man and pointing out how sweet it was thathe was marrying his teenage sweetheart. If things ever started to feel a bitmuch then all he had to do was look for Jack and the smile he’d get would keephim going.

With all the people to greet and talk to and all the plansto finalise with the hotel, Davey didn’t much time to let his mind run. When hefinally lay down in bed that night with Jack his brain start whirring, flashingthrough event after event that could go wrong until he was fidgeting restlesslyand letting the stress take control.

“Regretting the no sex rule?” Jack asked, feeling the wavesof tension emanating out into the room.“Little bit,” Davey huffed. “How could you tell?”“You’re stressed,” Jack shrugged, rolling over so he could face his fiancé inthe dim light that filtered through the cracks in the window from the lightsoutside. “You don’t need to be, because everything’s going to be perfect, butyou’re worried anyway because you wouldn’t be the guy I loved if you weren’t.And when you’re stressed, I know exactlyhow to get you to stop overthinking everything,” he teased, rubbing Davey’scalf with his toe under the duvet.

“We said we wouldn’t,” Davey tried to reason, but his heartwasn’t really in the debate. He wanted Jack to make him feel so good that hedidn’t have enough brain cells to panic about forgetting vows or not trippingwhen he walked down the aisle, or someone actually responding and having areason they couldn’t be married.

“Mmmm,” Jack sighed, kissing Davey’s cheek. “Past Jack andPast Davey were idiots. Let’s not listen to them.”“Okay,” Davey agreed, rolling over to pin Jack to the pillow and press kissesdown his jaw.

“Maybe no hickeys,” Jack laughed. “You’ll never forgive me ifI have hickeys in our wedding photos, even if it was you who put them there.”

Davey rolled his eyes but Jack did have a point so he movedhis ministrations lower, kissing a trail down Jack’s chest until he got to hiships.

“Here okay?” he asked cheekily, grinning when Jack noddedwordlessly, his fist in his mouth to stop from moaning when Davey pushed downthe waistband of his boxers to work on leaving a hickey on his hip bone. Anyoneelse who ever saw their wedding photos would be none the wiser, but they’d bothalways know. And that, to Davey, sounded perfect.

***

Davey realised pretty quickly the next morning that they’dmade the right choice the night before. He was already stressed beyond belief,stopping for deep breaths or kisses from Jack every few minutes, even withhaving relieved some of the pressure that had been building up. Their weddingwasn’t officially until five in the afternoon and Sarah and Crutchie, asdesignated ‘best men’ were technically in charge of organising everything, butDavey still found time to fly around and micromanage and panic about everythinguntil Sarah marched him and Jack to their hotel room and told Jack to pleasekeep her brother sane and also make him get dressed because he couldn’t get marriedin Jack’s old sweatpants and a t-shirt that read ‘Atticus Finch, Attorney AtLaw’ that Les had gotten him several Christmases back. Jack had good-naturedlyargued that he thought Davey looked dapper already and he’d have married him inanything but he dragged Davey inside and handed him the garment bag with hissuit in with a kiss.

***

Most of the wedding was a blur. Davey remembered Esther andMayer walking him down the aisle and Jack following with Medda. He rememberedgrabbing Jack’s hand as soon as he was in touching distance, just so he hadsome way to ground himself. And he remembered hearing the words ‘you may nowkiss the groom’ and knowing that Jack was finally and officially and legallyhis husband.

“Sarah, I married him,” Davey whispered several minuteslater, unable to look away from where Jack was shaking Mayer’s hand with a grinand accepting a hug from Esther.“Okay, Jane Eyre,” she snorted, patting him on the back.

Her brother had been waiting for this day for years, sheknew that. She’d seen seventeen-year-old Davey’s scribbles of David Kelly and DJ in the margins of his notes. She still had the textmessages of very un-Davey keysmashes from a little under the year ago when Jackhad proposed. At the time she’d been vaguely concerned he was having some kindof stroke but eventually she managed to tease of the words ‘ring’ and ‘marry’from the mishmash of letters and work out what he was saying. This was Davey’shappily ever after and she was so happy that he’d gotten it.

When Jack came back over to free Davey from Medda’s hugs andcongratulations, he kissed his new husband’s cheek and then pressed another tothe back of his hand, rubbing his thumb across the ring on Davey’s finger.

“So, party?” he asked, grinning. “I think we have somethingto celebrate.”

***

Davey spent most of the reception not leaving Jack’s side. Endlesspeople seemed to want to talk to them, to congratulate them or give them tipson a long and happy marriage or make jokes about how it was a nice firstwedding and that was always good practice for the second (courtesy of one ofDavey’s slightly too drunk uncles). They both just smiled politely and bit backresponses that they knew this was forever and that they didn’t need advicebecause they were going to figure this whole thing out together and that wasall they needed.

Throughout the evening everyone seemed to get steadily tipsier.Davey didn’t drink and didn’t particularly like being around drunk people, soJack only had one or two glasses. He figured that, if he was buying alcohol fordozens and dozens of people, he deserved a little himself and Davey didn’t mindso long as he was still himself. After the toasts, though, Davey found himselffeeling a little left out with his glass of nonalcoholic bubbles and reachedover to steal a sip from Jack’s, pulling a face at the bitter taste and handingit back with a screwed-up nose, shaking his head.

“You know you don’t like it, so why try,” Jack laughed,kissing his husband gently because he was just too cute not to.

“I felt like I should,” Davey shrugged, leaning againstJack’s side as he put his arm around him.

Jack just laughed again and tickled playfully at Davey’sribs through his dress shirt.

“David Jacobs bowing to peer pressure? You shock me,” heteased.“Jacobs-Kelly,” Davey corrected with a smile, leaning in for another kiss.

Jack hummed happily; this was all he’d ever wanted. Meddawas his family and Crutchie was his family and he knew that adoption didn’tmean his mother and brother were any less to him than they would be if theywere related by blood, but there was something about this tradition, thisformality, of having a husband that he couldn’t get over.

“Are Spot and Race here together?” Davey asked, settlingback into his own chair and watching as their friends were having what lookedlike a very intense conversation at an otherwise empty table, everyone elsealready on the dance floor.

Race and Spot were the most dysfunctional couple Davey knewand he wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep it up so long. They were stilltrying to convince people that there was not and had never been anythingbetween them and that they were just friends, but no one was stupid enough tobelieve it. Neither of them had formally dated anyone in four years, and theywere constantly sneaking around together. Still, if they wanted to continue tolie to their friends and themselves then Davey wasn’t going to stand in theirway.

“Officially? No,” Jack sighed. He’d given up on trying to talksense into Race when it came to Spot.

“And unofficially?” Davey pressed.

“What do you think?” Jack snorted, gesturing back over tothe couple where it looked like they were playing footsie under the table andsitting far closer than friends usually would. Alcohol was particularly good atbreaking down Race’s walls – he’d been caught making out with Spot by prettymuch every one of their friends at parties or previous weddings – and right nowhe was mumbling something in Spot’s ear that was obscene enough to make even theirstoic friend blush.

“I think Race is one vodka and Coke away from climbing intoSpot’s lap,” Davey laughed. “Are they sharing a room?”

“Officially, no,” Jack shook his head, but then he smirked. “Unofficially,they gave Race’s room to Les so he doesn’t have to sleep on a camp bed on thefloor of your parents’ room and Race is sleeping in Spot’s room.”

Usually most of Jack’s intel on Spot and Race’snot-quite-a-relationship came from Race himself, who had to talk to someoneabout how he felt so he didn’t explode, but this time it was Les who had beentoo excited about getting his own room to keep quiet.

���Are we talking about the idiotic lovebirds?” Les asked,coming over and slumping down into a chair beside Davey and putting a champagneglass onto the table in front of him.“Speak of the devil,” Jack groaned, but he offered Les a smile. They werebrothers now, after all, and he was fond of the teenage whirlwind that was LesJacobs.

“Les,” Davey began skeptically, “how many glasses ofchampagne have you had to drink?”

The one in front of him was half full and he seemed morethan a little tipsy. “Um…” Les giggled, looking at his fingers as if he was trying to add up.“The fact that you even need to count is not promising,” Davey growled. Hislittle brother was seventeen, he just wanted him to be sensible. Technically heshouldn’t have been drinking at all.“Definitely not four…” Les trailed off, clearly lying.

Jack stifled a laugh as Davey groaned and put his head inhis hands.

“Jesus Christ!” he complained.

“You’re Jewish,” Les pointed out, laughing. “And anyway, Meddagave me the first one!”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “And the others?”“I took from the table at the side…” Les laughed again.

There wasn’t a lot Davey could do about it, he knew that. Hislittle brother was old enough to make his own decisions and the hangover he wasgoing to have in the morning was probably going to teach him more of a lessonthan a lecture ever would.“Do not let Mom see you,” he warned, knowing that somehow he would find atleast part of the blame for it and he didn’t want stern words from Esther onthe day of his wedding.“I’m not an idiot,” Les snorted, picking up the glass and taking another gulp.

Rolling his eyes and leaning back against Jack’s shoulder,Davey just ignored Les’ bad life choices and tried to focus on how good it feltto know there was a weight of a wedding band on his finger. He didn’t even haveto look at it to know it was there.

***

Davey made it to ten in the evening before starting to flag.He’d danced with Jack and Sarah and his mum and watched as Spot and Raceslipped away and came back an hour later looking particularly pleased withthemselves, trying not to feel jealous that they managed to sneak away for somealone time when he was stuck talking to aunts and cousins and family friends.He smiled as Sarah and Katherine danced slowly together at the edge of thedance floor and watched in disbelief as his little brother tried, somewhat drunkenly,to flirt with one of the waiters. That was something they should probably talkabout – if Esther and Mayer had managed to raise three queer kids then he wasgoing to enter them for some kind of record – but it could wait until Les wassober and Davey wasn’t quite so tired. Hosting a wedding wasn’t easy.

He ended up sitting down in the chair next to Jack with a groan,giving it a second’s thought before he shuffled until was lying sideways on thechair, his head resting on Jack’s thighs as he looked up at his husband.

“You doing okay, love?” Jack laughed, brushing his fingersthrough Davey’s hair fondly.“There’s a lot of people…” Davey mumbled. “I know we invited them all and I dolove them it’s just there are so many of them and they all want to talk to usand they’re drunk and I… It’s a bit much,” he admitted quietly, Jack having tolean down to hear.“Want to get out of here?” Jack asked softly. They could always see theirfriends another day and right now he wanted Davey to be comfortable and happy.Preferably in their hotel bed.“Please,” Davey sighed, reaching up to link his fingers with Jack’s.“Say no more,” Jack promised.

He gently nudged Davey out of his lap and climbed to histired feet, holding out his hand for Davey to take.

They made it three steps before Medda’s sister wascongratulating them on their marriage and on such a lovely ceremony and sayinghow she still remembered a scared little Jack who had just been adopted and howhe had grown into a wonderful young man. It was all compliments but they’dheard them time after time all day and they were starting to lose their impact.Davey hated to be ungrateful, but he just wanted to be alone with his husbandafter entertaining for hours.

Five minutes of polite, if slightly strained, conversationlater, they finally managed to get away and make it several more metres acrossthe room before one of Davey’s cousins came over.

Jack loved Davey’s family, really he did. But right now, hewished Davey was estranged from them all. The entire room was full of obstacleswho wanted to prevent them from ever leaving and they needed some sort ofescape plan. Looking around, he caught Race’s eye and sent a silent help us across the room. Responding witha nod, Race grabbed Spot’s arm and pulled him over to play bodyguards. Theymanaged to successfully escort Jack and Davey to the door, fending off anyonewho looked like they wanted to start a lengthy conversation, and wave them offinto the night.

They rounded the corner to head towards the trail that wouldlead back to the annex their hotel room was in, and Davey almost tripped overLes where he was sat with his back against the wall. Before Davey couldquestion exactly why he wasn’t back inside with everyone else, Les looked upand smirked when he realised where they were going.

“Have fun, big bro!” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Les,” Davey groaned. He didn’t want to hear thatfrom his baby brother.

Jack just grinned and wrapped his arms around Davey’s waist,kissing him on the cheek and looking down at Les over Davey’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, he will,” he laughed, earning himself ahalf-hearted elbow to the ribs.“Shut up, Jack!” Davey yelped, turning red. This wasn’t a conversation hewanted to have in present company.

He made the decision to usher Jack away and leave Les to hisown devices. His brother wasn’t his problem tonight and he was going to leaveit to someone else to talk to Les about why he was sitting outside and why hewas flirting with male waiters and where he’d gone a couple of hours earlierand why he felt the need to drown whatever he was feeling in alcohol, but forthe next two weeks he couldn’t – and didn’t want to - deal with anything butJack. His honeymoon was a break from being the Mom Friend, although he did makea mental note to get Sarah to talk to their little brother.

Les didn’t seem too downhearted as Davey walked away, andthat was a good enough sign that he didn’t need his brother right now, so Daveytook Jack’s hand and tugged him down the trail and aware from the weddingreception.

“Jack, please don’t talk about having sex with me to mylittle brother,” he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Who mentioned sex?” Jack teased, laughing. “I didn’tmention sex. I was talking about card games. We’re going to be playing athrilling round of Gin.”

Davey wrinkled his nose and shook his head. There wasn’tanything he could imagine to be worse.

“I really don’t want to play Gin on my wedding night,” heargued. Whenever he’d envisaged his wedding night there hadn’t been any cardgames in sight – just him and Jack and a night of heat and intimacy and touch.

“Well it doesn’t have to be Gin. How about Snap?” Jack saidplayfully, pulling Davey to a stop so he could look at his eyes and brush hisknuckles down the line of his jaw to make him shiver.

“Jack!” Davey whined, pouting.

“Go Fish? Poker?” Jack suggested, running his thumb across Davey’slips to smooth away the pout.“No!” Davey protested, the word a little muffled under Jack’s finger.

Jack took a step closer and straightened out Davey’s suitlapels, loving that his closeness still made Davey’s heart skip.

“Strip Poker?” he breathed,low and suggestive.

Davey shivered. “…Better.”

Anything that involved Jack in very few amounts of clothingsounded like a wonderful idea.

“Ah, so you want me out of my clothes,” Jack smirked. “I canrelate. But first, let me sketch you?”

Davey paused – that wasn’t quite what he expected. He lovedit when Jack drew him, being looked at like that made him feel valued andloved, but that could happen any time. Right now he wanted Jack to take himapart, not construct a new version of him on paper.

“You want to draw me like one of your French girls?” heasked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack just shook his head.

“I want to draw the first picture of my husband,” he replied,deadly serious.

“Jack, there are going to be hundreds of photographs,” Daveytried to reason. They’d had official photos taken and everyone had had theirphones out snapping pictures all day. He was planning to collect the best onesfrom everyone and format some kind of collage or photo book – this day wasdefinitely something he wanted to remember.

“It’s not the same,” Jack explained. “I need to draw you. Ineed to remember exactly how I see you right now, forever.”

The words sunk deep into Davey’s bone and he was speechlessfor a long moment.“Oh,” he managed, fighting back happy tears. “Yeah. Okay you can draw yourhusband for the first time, but then I get to sleep with my husband for thefirst time, yes? Because this is our wedding night, Jack, in case you’dforgotten,” he said, forcing a laugh through the wave of emotions crashing overhim.

“I could never forget,” Jack promised, pulling Davey in fora quick, deep kiss that he felt all the way down to his toes and leading himback to their room.

***

Davey sat impatiently on the bed, his jacket and tiediscarded and his top few buttons undone. Jack had kissed him and ruffled uphis clothes and his hair and his sanity, and then stepped away and left him turnedon and pouty. But Jack had wanted to draw him and he was planning on being asupportive husband so he let him collect a sketchbook and stick of charcoal andstart to draw.

He was used to sitting for hours for a detailed drawing sowhen Jack put the book aside after only twenty minutes, Davey was convinced itwas too good to be true.

“Done already?” he asked hopefully, reaching out to pullJack closer to him when he left the armchair and joined him on the bed.“The sketching is done, I can finish it tomorrow. I just didn’t like being sofar away,” Jack hummed. It had only been a couple of metres of distance buttonight that just felt like too much.

Davey wasn’t about to complain. He tugged Jack to him andkissed him enthusiastically, letting his hands undo Jack’s tie and shirtbuttons before pausing and pulling away just a little.

“Does it creep you out that people know you’re having sexright now?” he asked. It had been bothering him since Les had spoken to them asthey’d been leaving. Their absence would probably be quickly noticed at theirown wedding and people were going to jump to the obvious, and correct,conclusion. It felt weirdly voyeuristic and he wasn’t exactly comfortable withit.

Jack just sighed.“I’m not having sex right now,” he pointed out, gesturing down to theirpractically fully dressed states. He very much wanted to be having sex but thatwas going to take far longer to happen if Davey was going to interrupt them.“You know what I mean. Everyone knows we’re in bed together,” Davey complained.

“Yes,” Jack laughed, “I believe both the Queen of Englandand the Pope are currently being informed.”Davey scowled and hit him with a pillow, flopping back to lie on the bed andexamine the ceiling until his husband decided to cooperate in the conversation.Jack lay down beside him and pressed a kiss to his cheek with a grin.“Come on, babe, it’s not like everyone thought we were celibate until now.Neither of us has exactly been saving himself for marriage,” he pointed out. They’dbeen sleeping together since their fourth date, and neither had been the other’sfirst time. This wasn’t some ceremonial event.

“My parents don’t know that,” Davey shrugged. He didn’treally talk about his sex life to anyone besides Jack, except when Sarahdragged some details out of him, and especially not to his parents.“Give Esther and Mayer some credit, love,” Jack snorted. “They probably knewyou weren’t a virgin anymore the moment you walked in the door after your firsttime.”

Davey wasn’t good with secrets, especially not when they relatedto emotions. If he’d been anything like the Davey who Jack knew now then itwould have been all flushed cheeks and uncontrollable smiles. Any adult withhalf a brain would have known he’d had sex.“They’ve probably never given it much thought before,” Davey grumbled, but evenas he pouted his fingers went to Jack’s chest, toying with the buttons on thehalf open shirt.“And they’re not giving it much thought now, I guarantee,” Jack laughed,catching Davey’s hand and twining their fingers together. “Everyone has had toomuch to drink to worry about what I’m doing to you in bed.” His voice droppedoff at the end of the sentence, low and tempting. Suddenly Davey didn’t care somuch about who else was thinking what, so long as Jack’s train of thought continued.“What about what I do to you?” he asked slyly, finally finishing off with Jack’sbuttons.

Jack grinned, crawling up over his husband as Davey pushedhis shirt off his shoulders.“Well I was hoping you’d reciprocate,” Jack smirked. As much fun as it was to spendall his energy on driving Davey completely insane, tonight was going to befair.

“Always,” Davey promised. Marriage was about mutualconcessions and compromises, after all.

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 48, April 2017

On Monday morning, I had my last session with my psychologist Ms. Angela Ewing at Casey Allied Health in Berwick. I was feeling quite apprehensive and flustered about going today. The main issue discussed what about my spending habits and credit card debit. It was very clear that she’s strongly against the idea of me having a credit card. Even when I presented my two-month plan to pay it off, she practically laughed in my face and didn’t believe that I could do it. And she also believes that using a credit card is living in a fantasy world and not the real world. What a load of shit!

Instead of encouraging me and congratulating me for making some pro-active changes in the last week, she shut me down saying that I should just “cut it up” and that “I’ll be spending outside of my means for the rest of my life”. I didn’t feel like she was on my side at all. In fact, it seemed like she was trying to make me feel guilty for misusing my credit card.

The only positive and constructive thing that came out of today’s session was her analogy about living life with regards to mental illness. If you live your life in the past, you’re ruminating on depressing thoughts. If you live your life in the future, you’re bridge jumping with anxious “What if?” type thoughts. But if you live your life in the present moment, you can be actively problem solving such as making plans for the week, writing a budget and setting goals for the future.

I was actually relieved for all the wrong reasons leaving her office today. I’ve made much more progress with my counsellor Ruth who is much more positive and supportive about my decisions. Still, I feel really blessed that these 3 sessions were covered under the EAP (Employee Assistance Program). But unfortunately Angela just wasn’t a good fit for me and I won’t be going back to her again.

On Monday night, I went to my RPM class at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. I haven’t been to an RPM class for a few weeks with things always clashing but also because I wasn’t in the best mindset the last time. Thankfully I was feeling positive and ready to go tonight. I kept my pace pretty steady for the first couple of tracks and started sweating by the end of Track 2. I was averaging around 60-70 RPM during the uphill sections and 90-105 RPM during the racing sections.

Eventually though, I picked up the pace and went all out during Track 7, getting up to 130 RPM which is the fastest I’ve ever cycled. I had to back off during the last track as my right thigh and groin area was beginning to hurt and I was also starting to get fatigued but for the most part, I was really happy with my workout tonight. I even tried varying the resistance a bit to give myself a challenge. https://www.lesmills.com/workouts/f...

On Tuesday morning, I attended a Yoga class at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. The moment that I stepped into the group fitness studio, I knew that this class would be different to what I’m used to. It was run by a female Indian instructor who was using a large orange towel instead of a yoga mat. We began the class by chanting “ohm” three times, sitting back on our ankles before bowing down over our knees.

The class was broken up into sections including joint therapy, sun salutations, standing and balancing poses, twists and seated postures. We also had several “quick meditations�� which involved lying down flat on our backs whilst the Indian instructor chanted a mantra in Sanskrit. I didn’t really know what any of it meant but I instantly felt lighter, calmer and more at peace listening to it. The music was a beautiful mixture of new age, Punjabi and Zen styles plus some natural bird sounds during the final meditation. https://www.fitnessfirst.com.au/fin...

On Wednesday morning, I continued my series of charcoal sketches with some observational drawings of a fruit platter in my kitchen. I divided it up into two separate drawings...one focusing on the apples and lemons and the other just on the pears. I decided to block in the shadows cast by the fruit to really emphasize the shape and form whilst using dotting and light mark making to create tone.

On Thursday afternoon, I did my last 1 on 1 fitness training session at Breakaway Fitness in Narre Warren (at least for a while). It could have been a really bittersweet moment for me but luckily an opportunity came along for me after my personal trainer Luke Davey announced that he’ll be running group training sessions in a couple of weeks time. For me, this will be a better and more affordable option plus it will give me a good social outlet by working out with fellow clients.

Today’s session ran pretty smoothly for the most part. During the warm-up, I did three rounds of 90 second squat holds and a three minute butterfly hold. These exercises really helped in loosening my hips and groins as they tend to get really tight. Next for the development section, I worked on my weighted back squats doing twelve rounds of 5 reps, EMOTM (Every Minute on the Minute). This meant that I had a minute to complete each of the 5 reps and the remaining time was used to rest. I was a little shaky at times but I think I did pretty well to maintain my form and technique, though racking up the bar was a little challenging!

In the workout, I had to do three rounds of the following exercises: 15 jump squats, 15 butterfly sit-ups and a 200m row. As usual, I’m pretty hopeless at setting a goal for myself. I never know what to say so Luke ended up making it 9 minutes. It was pretty tough but nowhere near as tough as some of my previous workouts. Perhaps I’m getting fitter, who knows? But I ended up smashing the workout in 8 minutes and 11 seconds. https://www.facebook.com/breakawayf...

On Good Friday, my parents and I drove down to Rye to visit my Step-Dad’s sister Sandra and her husband Brian to celebrate Easter together. We went for a 45 minute around the back streets and visited the beach behind their house. The weather was mostly sunny, 19-20 degrees, with light cool winds. I was really feel sore in my glutes, buttocks and thighs after my training session yesterday but otherwise the gentle exercise was nice.

Of course being a family catch-up and a public holiday, I was confronted with many of my comfort foods...lolly snakes, blocks of dairy milk chocolate and small Easter eggs. But you know what, I’m no longer going to feel guilty about eating junk food for one day when I’ve been maintaining a healthy diet for most of the week. Not even Pauline Hanson can make me feel bad for eating a Cadbury-branded Easter egg. I don’t give a shit really. I’m going to enjoy myself this Easter.

Sandra gave as the usual tour of her front and back gardens, the veggie patch and a new undercover patio area that it’s in the process of being built. I always feel like I’m on a segment of Burke’s Backyard or Gardening Australia, learning about different plants and how to grow them. In the afternoon, we just relaxed in the lounge room talking about politics, housing and the economy before heading back home.

“So I went to the bank to see what they could do. They said ‘Son, looks like bad luck got-a hold on you.’ Money’s too tight to mention. I can’t get an unemployment extension.”    Simply Red - Money’s Too Tight (1985)

“I am not my mistakes and God knows I’ve made a few. I started to question the angels and the answer they gave was you...I love my life. I am powerful. I am beautiful. I am free. I love my life. I am wonderful. I am magical. I am me. I love my life.”                                            Robbie Williams - Love My Life (2016)