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greaseballissorrry · 3 months ago

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A lil fic based on the concept of the Delanceys being hired to make sure Katherine gets home safe.

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The whistle was low and made Katherine stop. She loathed to admit it, but suddenly, all her objections to Jack insisting on walking her home felt stupid. The streets were emptier than she thought they’d be, the sky had dimmed to a dark blue already and both corners at the end of the street were draped in shadows and flickering candlelight from the dimly lit orange windows on either side.

She flexed her hand at her side and glanced down the brick alley to her left—the sound had definitely come from there. Katherine would never call herself crazy, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders and solid intuition in her gut, but she didn’t expect to see anyone. It was comforting in it’s own way to convince herself that she’d imagined it because her mind was always playing tricks like this on her, just to keep her aware. Just to keep her safe on these walks home.

But blue eyes met her own.

She almost jumped but was able to successfully hold back the flinch despite the sound of her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She could feel it in the base of her throat.

“Y’know your shoes sound expensive Pulitzer? Specially on these cobbles.”

In any other situation she wouldn’t have let out a breath of relief at seeing him, but the smell of smoke was familiar and that was comforting despite who was holding the cigarette. A known risk, a predictable one, instead of a surprise.

“Delancey.” She said.

“Yeah.” He pushed himself away from the wall, lazy and slow. “which one though?”

She scanned him for something recognisable, distinguishable, but she couldn’t find it, she had no idea what she was even looking for.

“I don’t care. And if I’m honest, I don’t think it really matters.”

His lip twitched around the cigarette; and Katherine noted, objectively, that he was handsome, a sharp jaw and loose curls that suited a smile, even if it was usually laced with meanness.

“Fair enough-“

“Why are you stalking me?” It was quick. Blunt. She had goosebumps.

He laughed out loud at that, a cloud of smoke slowly dissipating as he reached up to hold the cigarette between two fingers, inhaling another drag of smoke before he spoke.

“I got more interestin’ things to do than following you around Pulitzer, but Joe is payin’ good money for a babysitter, and it ain’t in my pocket til I get you home safe.”

The pieces slowly came together to form a full picture, all the things over the past few days that had felt bizarre; the way her father had allowed her out without argument, and without her having to sneak to visit the bunk house, the way the hair on the back of her neck had stood up the last few evenings walking home and the voice in the back of her head insisting she was being watched despite the empty streets and evening air and sun that hadn’t quite set yet.

She felt exposed and vindicated all at once.

“But you have been following me.”

“Yeah well I didn’t think you’d wanna chat.” He inhaled another drag of smoke and rolled his shoulder, something clicked at the movement. “And half the time you were hanging off Kelly’s arm so I ain’t wanna interrupt nothing.”

Katherine was never subtle when she flushed, the red starting at the base of her neck and working its way up to the tops of her cheeks; she could feel the warmth of it spreading now too.

“My father is paying you.” She said, instead of acknowledging it.

“Yeah. Must be nice havin’ a da who cares about you.”

He was needling, gaze lazy but receptive, like he was watching for a reaction. She wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Don’t pretend to know anything my family.”

Oscar shrugged, and finally stepped toward the mouth of the alley, past her like he expected her to follow him, throwing his cigarette down and stamping it out in the process.

“I know he’s paying a guy like me to walk you home. Reckon that tells me what I need to know, don’t it.”

“A street thug with a violent reputation.” She shot back, hating this, all of it. Hating how easily he could dig under her skin. “You’re right, that clearly proves he cares.”

“Christ, I didn’t take the job to hear you whine about your daddy alright?”

Katherine, despite herself, followed him, he was walking her path home, footsteps familiar and sure and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d silently followed her. Enough to know the route at least.

He was right. Her shoes did sound expensive on the cobblestones.

She inhaled before she spoke to settle the frustration smouldering in the pit of her stomach, the air tasted like frustration and stale smoke.

“Next time you see my father, tell him that this is a waste of money.” She said, “I can handle myself.”

Oscar barely glanced back at her, hands shoved in his pockets, all nonchalance in a way that made her skin burn.

“Sure. That’s why you stopped dead at someone whistlin’ at you right?”

She wouldn’t admit he was right, but she knew he was. It was hardly like she had much control over her survival instincts, and she’d been so on edge walking home recently, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She could picture the amused smile as it was, arrogant and smug, another thing to poke her with.

“It’s not one your business what I do or why.” She answered too fast. She needed to change the subject. “So which one are you?”

At that he glanced over his shoulder. Just for a second. “What?”

She sped up, decidedly walking next to him instead of trailing behind, leaving a person sized gap between them. He didn’t let his step falter with her at his side.

“Which brother.” She clarified, “Oscar or Morris.”

He snorted, and his pocket made a sharp jingling sound as he shoved his hand further in, coming up with a new cigarette, before his smirk faded to something neutral.

“Oscar.”

“So Where’s Morris?”

“You think I keep tabs on him?”

“Well, you seem fairly inseparable.”

The night air was heavy and weighed down on her shoulders, replacing the tension that was usually there. Maybe it was the company, the not needing to second guess every shadow and alley opening.

Oscar fished in his heavy coat pocket for a match, speaking through an unlit cigarette.

“You ever get bored talking?”

It was mean, as childish as that may sound. And unnecessary.

She bit her tongue. “You’re the one insisting on walking with me. I’m allowed to ask questions.”

He glanced sideways at her, gaze sharp and unreadable as the match flickered to a flame and he held it up to the end of his cigarette, inhaling deep and breathing smoke out his nose, jaw hard.

“You think I like hovering behind you like a damn shadow?”

It was snapped, and cold. For the first time that evening there was no amused edge to his voice, and when Katherine folded her arms across her chest she wasn’t sure whether it was an attempt to ward off the cold or to distance herself from him.

“I think you like making me feel like I owe you something.”

“All I’m owed is my pay.”

She swallowed against the acrid smell of smoke. It was going to stain her dress.

“So that’s it then.” The walk home had never felt this long before, “if it’s just about your pay, surely you can find some other strike to break.”

“Nah, ain’t gotta pay me for that. Excuse of crackin’ a few heads is enough. Course you’re too good for that, ain’t you princess.”

It was intentional. All bite, sharpened teeth. Katherine could feel the point of hers too.

"If you've got such a problem with me, you could have said no to my father. You didn't have to take the job, or the money. You don’t have to follow me around like some stray dog waiting for scraps."

His gaze hardened, she could tell it hit, that she’d struck a nerve. It was subtle, but his jaw twitched, a flicker of something too raw, hurt even, in his eyes. Quickly covered by that ice again, cold and unreadable, by the hard set of his shoulders.

"I ain't a dog, Pulitzer," he said, low, smoke acrid, the end of his cigarette glowing red hot. "I took the job 'cause I needed it. Just doin’ what your da told me.”

"That's funny.” She could see her home in the distance. Every footstep felt like mile. “You don't strike me as the obedient type."

"I ain't," he said, too quick. “But obedience and money got an understanding between 'em. Not somethin’ some heiress would understand.”

He spat the word like it was an insult, like it tasted bad just to say it, and Katherine glared, could feel the heat in her cheeks, but let the silence sit regardless.

The tough scrape of his boots, and the sharp click of her heels, the shift of the fabric of her dress, were the only sounds keeping them company- the air thick with pride and smoke and night. Heavy.

As they continued Oscar’s shoulder loosened again slightly, bit by bit, one hand still shoved deep in his pocket, and Katherine envied the ease of it, wished she could match it in the tension of her neck and the fold of her arms, defensive and annoyed. His jaw was clenched tight though, like he was biting back words. Maybe he was.

The path to her door felt like an eternity.

When they finally reached it she stopped, Oscar did too.

For a moment neither of them spoke, and Katherine felt oddly exposed, the townhouse big and elegant looming above them and making her all the more aware of the patches on Oscar’s coat, the loose hemming and the fact it was slightly too small.

She glanced at him, next to her.

“So you’re done, then.”

He shrugged, “you’re home ain’t you?”

“You could’ve stalked me from the shadows again. Saved yourself the pain of conversation.”

“Maybe I was bored.”

She almost rolled her eyes, turned toward the door to knock, and then paused.

“Have you told my father anything?”

“What?” It was dry. “That you have no self-awareness? Or that you argue like it’s your job.”

Katherine didn’t laugh, didn’t glare, just waited, an earnest frustration that seemed to work, an understanding.

Oscar hesitated, then tapped ash of his smoke, “Nah. I ain’t reportin’ nothing to your da, Pulitzer.

She nodded once, stiffly. “Okay, good.”

And then she turned away towards her door.

She didn’t look back.

His footsteps were near silent as he made his way back up the street, until it was almost like he was never there at all, and Katherine ducked inside.

#oh them #ive missed them #oscar delancey #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #splint newsies

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