#tommy box x henry newsies

[shiny-peach-water]

tommy thought it’d be a good idea to break into an “abandoned” farmhouse… (i love doing crossovers of hyperfixiations!!)

[livesincerely]

Part two of an ask from @deliciouspeachpirate that said “Hey there! I'm so sorry the election is upsetting you, I totally get it, its pretty awful. Could you do kiss on the cheek/forehead kiss for Jack and Crutchie (platonically of course) and possessive/desperate kiss for Jack and Davey? 10,000 points to whatever your Hogwarts house is if the Javid kiss is in the rain. I hope you are able to relax and feel better soon! I'm always here if you want to vent or anything<3”

The cheek kiss is here: x

00000

Possessive Kiss (in the Rain)

It’s a sizzling hot afternoon, only made tolerable by another surprise summer rain shower. Jack’s leaning against a set of boxes the guys haven’t got to yet, sipping slowly at a canteen of water, ordered to sit his ass down and ‘rest for ten goddamn minutes, Jackie, or I swear to god—‘ and Jack’s long since learned not to argue with Davey when it comes to stuff like this.

His eyes track slowly around the square—there’s Racetrack and Albert bickering about the best ways to coil a sodden pile of rope, Hotshot, Sniper, and Smalls cleaning away broken shingles, pieces of trash, and random bits of laundry blown into the courtyard by the storm, Specs, Tommy Boy, Henry, Spot, and Myron working on securing a piece of fallen fencing back into place—but his gaze is always, inevitably drawn back to Davey.

He’s gotten his hands on an old broom one of the Newsies pulled outta some backroom, using his height to knocks leaves, sticks, and dirt out of the Brooklyn Lodging House’s gutters. Every few minutes he has to stop to push his sopping wet fringe out of his face, rivets of water streaming down the bridge of his nose and off the high points of his cheeks, and he stripped off his vest some half an hour ago due to the heat, leaving him in just his now-transparent button up, which is doing absolute fuck all to conceal the strong set of his shoulders and the lean lines of his back.

Jack’s not sure how long he’s been staring when a voice chimes up, “Yeah, he’s a looker, ain’t he?”

He turns to look: another Newsie has wandered over at some point while Jack was distracted, one that he hasn’t spoken to before. He’s about Jack’s height but looks to be a year or two younger, with a sharp shock of carrot orange hair and a face full of freckles, dressed in Brooklyn red and navy—Jack thinks he remembers someone calling him Rooster. He’s staring at Davey with open desire.

“What’s that?” Jack says, frowning.

“That guy you’re eyeing up—Davey, I think his name is?” Rooster says, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his across his chest, but never taking his eyes off Davey. “He’s really somethin’, huh?”

Jack feels his jaw start to clench, nostrils flaring. Rooster doesn’t seem to notice, continuing with, “I didn’t even wanna help with all this stupid, clean-up shit, but I sure am glad Spot made me come along, ‘cause the view more than makes up for the work. It’s just a fuckin’ shame that he’s taken, or else I’d go over there and... introduce myself, if you know what I mean,” he finishes with a smirk.

“You would, would ya?” Jack asks, very evenly.

“Sure,” Rooster answers, easy as anything. “A fella as pretty as that? You don’t see that every day—gotta get ya kicks in as they come, ya know?”

“Right,” Jack grinds out.

At that moment, Davey lifts up on his toes, trying to get at a particularly stubborn bit of debris caught in the corner of the gutters, and the new position only highlights the way his rain-soaked slacks cling to every last inch of him.

Rooster lets out a low whistle; Jack grits his teeth at the sound of it. “Damn, that’s nice. I’d love to get my hands on an ass that swee—“

Jack shoots to his feet so abruptly that the rest of Roster’s comment is lost to the wind. He starts towards Davey, something hot and a little frenzied scorching through his veins.

“Hey, pal, that ain’t a good idea,” Rooster calls after him when he realizes Jack’s intention. “Like I said before, he’s already taken, and I hear the guy he’s courting ain’t too keen on people tryin’ta move in on his fella. He’s the leader of Manhattan, so you proba’ly don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, more of a growl than a word, not even turning to look back at the other boy as he stalks forward. “You really don’t.”

As if sensing Jack’s approach, Davey sets his broom down and takes a step back from the outer wall, turning towards him just as Jack stops in front of him. Davey looks at him from beneath the mop of sodden curls plastered to his forehead, then runs his tongue over his lower lip, licking away the raindrops that have gathered there. He raises an eyebrow: “I thought I told you to take a break—“

Jack curls a hand around Davey’s neck, palm splayed wide over the curve of his jaw, and draws him into a heated kiss. It’s slow and searing, Jack stepping closer and tilting Davey’s head just so—until he can press harder, press deeper—tongue sweeping in to plunder and devour and claim.

“Jack,” Davey says, half scolding, half breathless. His mouth has gone deliciously kiss-swollen, his eyes a little dazed. “What was that for?”

Jack kisses him once more, a chaste little peck, then pulls him in, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as his hands slide down to sit low on Davey’s hips. Over Davey’s shoulder he can see Rooster staring at them, wide eyed and stiff as a board. Jack pins him with a steely stare and a smile that’s all teeth, and the other boy goes starkly pale beneath his freckles.

“Maybe I just think you’re gorgeous,” Jack murmurs, lips brushing against Davey’s ear. “Maybe you’re just irresistible.”

“Uh huh,” Davey says, not fooled for a second. “What is it, really?”

“You’ve got somethin’ of an admirer.”

“Oh?” Davey says dryly, following Jack’s gaze over to where Rooster still sits, frozen. He arches an eyebrow and, because he can be just as much of a sarcastic asshole as Jack is, gives a little wave. Rooster lets out a squeak, audible even at this distance, and scurries away, tail between his legs. “And what did he say that set you off?”

“Nothing worth repeatin’,” Jack rumbles, planting a kiss to Davey’s temple. “Don’t worry about it.”

Davey gives him a look, one that says that he’s not buyin’ what Jack’s sellin’ but is choosing to let it go for now. “Possessive bastard,” he comments affectionately. “You’re ridiculous, Jackie, love.”

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” Jack says with a shrug, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

[shiny-peach-water]

this is a lazy sketch of tommy boy and henry (they’re boyfriends 🤭) a modern!newsies au i have a with one of my friends