#and i’m sure jack will cause davey’s gay panic as well

[we-are-inevitable]

hollywood au + flowershop/tattoo artist au ? - asper

oh my fuck. oh my fuck

ty for the ask!! @loving-jack-kelly

***

“Charlie!”

A distant thud, and then: “What the fuck are you yelling for? It’s eight in the morning, oh my God.”

Jack only feels a little bit sorry for him. He should probably feel worse; today is Charlie’s only day off this week, having picked up an extra day at the floral shop he works at, but this— it’s important, truly. “Just— Just hurry up and get in here, man, this is— I— Holy fuck.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, make the disabled guy walk to you instead of come to him. Perfect logic there,” Charlie calls out, his voice getting closer and closer with each word, soon emerging from the small hallway in their shared apartment. “What are you freakin’ out over this time?” He says as he rests his cane against the arm of the couch, plopping down and swinging his bad leg across Jack’s lap.

Instead of replying, Jack just keeps staring down at his phone. Staring at the new notifications. Staring at something that has to be a dream. Right? Because, if this is real— if these notifications are actually there, if Charlie sees them too— then this is going to be fucking insane. This is going to completely change his career.

His hands shake, just barely, as he passes Charlie the phone. “Look. Those— Those ain’t fake. Right? Is that a- a parody account or somethin’?”

Charlie stares at the screen for a few moments, takes it in, and says: “Holy… fuck.”

Instagram: davidjacobs started following you.

You have one unread message from davidjacobs.

“I haven’t even looked at the message yet,” Jack says after a moment, eyes wide. “He, like— that’s him? Like, actually—?”

“His account has the blue check mark and everything,” Charlie says in a rushed voice, and Jack watches him scroll through the Instagram feed after clicking on the account. “This— Look, he just posted photos yesterday from a shoot with Prada. Fucking Prada, Jack, that’s— that’s huge! And this one, he’s on Vanity Fair, and—“

“Give me that,” Jack says, reaching over and ripping his phone out of Charlie’s hands. “Did you look at the—?”

“No, no, I didn’t,” Charlie cuts in, leaning closer to look over Jack’s shoulder. “Open it! Come on, don’t be chicken shit.”

“Will you shut the fuck up and let me think?”

“Will you shut the fuck up and let me see the DM?”

Jack groans, then clicks on the messages tab. There it is, right there: David Jacobs, requesting to DM him. Jack can’t exactly believe it. David Jacobs, the man who won an Oscar just over a week ago, has messaged him. David Jacobs, the hottest man alive, pop culture’s current golden boy, Jack’s biggest celebrity crush, has messaged him.

He takes a deep breath and opens the DM.

davidjacobs: Hi, Jack! I’m looking to get a tattoo soon, and a buddy of mine sent me your page. Your work is incredible, and your style is exactly what I am looking for. I’d love to book you for a session if you have anything available. I’ll be in Manhattan for a week starting on the 27th before heading back to LA; do you have any availability? If not, I’d love for you to shoot me a message when your bookings open up. Thanks. DJ xx

“Oh my God,” Charlie blurts out, putting a hand on Jac’s shoulder. “Oh my fucking God, David Jacobs wants you to tattoo him! Holy— Do you know what this means?!”

“I— I have to open shop on a Tuesday,” Jack says, almost in a dreamlike state. “I’m fully booked for the next, like, month, but I— I can open shop on a Tuesday, and have him come in, and we can- I don’t know, it would be worth it? He’d tip really fuckin’ well, and—“

“He’s willing to wait for you,” Charlie interrupts. “Holy shit. You’re tattooing an Oscar winner.”

“I’m tattooing an Oscar winner,” Jack repeats, nodding his head.

It slowly starts to sink in. David Jacobs, an Oscar winner, a twenty-three year old with 58.9 million Instagram followers, who’s face is on every ad in the country, Hollywood’s newest heartthrob, wants a tattoo from Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly, whose shop isn’t even that well known. He has about five thousand followers on his personal page, and even less on his shop’s page. He only employs two other artists- a guy named Finch and another named Spot- because he can’t afford a larger space for the shop, and he’s been trying so hard to grow their followings and promote his art, his dream, and now…

Jack takes one look at Charlie, and says, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

And an hour later, David Jacobs’ name is on his books.

[broooklynshere-blog]

Sprace 8? because this sounds like it can end up being total chaos and I was cackling

[This isn’t super funny so I’m sorry, I tried!]

8. Does he know about the baby? 

Spot couldn’t breathe.

Three words andeverything had come crashing down around him. He’s yours, Sean. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. This was bad,beyond bad. It had been over a year ago, a one night stand that had ended withSpot realizing he was definitely gay. He and Race had gotten together just aweek later. He hadn’t thought about the girl much after, Amy was her name. Butshe had shown up on his doorstep that morning, a little boy clutched in herarms and announcing something that shook Spot to his core.

“I’m not here for money oranything.” Amy was quiet, looking over at the baby who was asleep in his carseat. “I just…I was looking at Noah one day and I realized that he should knowhis dad. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to, but I thought theoption should be there.”

Spot’s ears were ringing,it sounded as though Amy was very far away. He was a father. He had a son,Noah. A son who was smaller than one of Spot’s biceps and looked very, very fragile.Spot had never been good with fragile things. What was he supposed to tell theguys? Jack, Crutchie. Katherine was going to kill him, she was always going onabout safe sex. Then there was Race. Spot couldn’t even think about tellinghim. Things were finally good between them. After a couple months of falsestarts and a few break ups, they were finally in a good place. They had beengoing strong for seven months. Fuck. This was bad.

“Are…Are you sure?” Spot finallyfound his voice, wincing as he heard it shake.

Amy looked down. “Yeah.Well, almost.”

“Almost?” His voice roseslightly, but he lowered it again when he saw Noah stir. “This can’t be analmost thing, Amy. This has to be one hundred percent absolutely sure. Aren’tthere tests we can do or something?”

Amy hesitated beforenodding. “Yeah. I just…there was one other guy it could be. I guess I’m justhoping it’s you.” She laughed weakly.

Spot felt a wave ofsympathy for the woman in front of him. The other guy must have been prettyshitty for her to be hoping he was the father. He nodded slowly. “Amy…we’vestill got to do a test. I’ve got to be sure.”

Amy nodded. “I know. Ikind of planned for that. Here.” She pulled an envelope out of her bag andhanded it to him. “Send it in the mail, alright? The results will be here in acouple days.” She didn’t stay for long after that, they exchanged a few moreawkward pleasantries before she gave him her phone number and was out the door.He immediately called reinforcements, sending out a text to Jack, Davey,Crutchie, Katherine, and Sarah. They were all there within the hour, demandingto know what was going on.

“Alright, alright, calmdown. I…I’ve got some news.” Spot shifted on the couch, fixing his gaze on thecoffee table. “I…I’ve got a kid.”

There was silence for afew moments, then Jack finally spoke. “A…kid? Like a child?”

“No, like a goat.” Spotsnapped. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t Jack’s fault he was in this mess andhe had dropped everything to come help Spot out. “Sorry. Yeah, a child. Hisname’s Noah. This girl from a long time ago, before Race and I got together…well,it’s either me or one other guy.”

“Fuck.” Jack again spoke.“Dude, you’re not ready to be a dad.” This was followed by both Crutchie andKatherine smacking him, on the back of the head and shoulder respectively.

“Spot, it’s going to befine.” Davey’s voice was calm, reassuring. “There are tests that can be done.You don’t know for sure that he’s yours yet.”

“Yeah. Just try and staycalm.” Sarah added, leaning against Katherine. “Plus, even if he is yours…itwouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You’re not nineteen anymore. You’retwenty two and you’ve got a stable job.”

It was true. He hadlanded a fellowship working for The Wall Street Journal after college and thathad led to an actual paying job. He was writing political pieces for them. Itwasn’t the highest paying job in the world but it left him with a little extraat the end of the month, once rent and everything else was paid. But he stillfelt completely lost, he had no idea how to take care of himself much less achild. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Spot, don’t freak outwhen I ask you this. But…does he know about the baby?” Crutchie finally spoke,staring at Spot with a stern expression.

Spot’s stomach twistedinto knots. “Does who know?”

“Oh, don’t act dumb. DoesRace know?” Crutchie replied, his gaze hardening when Spot shook his head. “Youtold all of us before you told Race?”

“Told Race what?” The manin question stepped into the living room, carrying a pizza box. He set it downon the coffee table. “Spot, why didn’t you tell me they were here? I onlybrought one pizza.”

“We were just leaving.”Katherine stood up.

“We were?” Jack lookedconfused until Crutchie grabbed his arm, practically dragging him from theroom. The front door clicked shut behind their friends and Race sat on thecouch next to Spot, leaning against him.

“That was weird.Everything okay?” Race glanced up at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw softly.

Spot hesitated. He couldnot tell Race, that would be simple. Put it off until the results of the testcame back and then deal with it then. But…their problems in the beginning hadbeen caused by lack of communication. Spot had been working hard to be morehonest, a better boyfriend to Race. He couldn’t erase all that. “I have to tellyou something.”

Race sat up, turning sohe was facing Spot. “Is everything alright?” He sounded guarded, nervous.

“Kind of.” Spot took adeep breath and was cut off before he could speak.

“Did I do something? Wehaven’t fought in a while. I thought we were doing well.” Race’s voice wascalm, with just a hint of a tremor in it. A side effect from the early days oftheir relationship, when they had shouted unspeakable things at each other andrefused to speak for days at a time.

Spot grabbed Race’shands, shaking his head. “No. No.” Hesaid firmly, brushing their lips together. “You’re fine. Us, we’re good. It’ssomething else.”

Race relaxed then,squeezing Spot’s hands gently. “What is it then?”

“I…” Spot couldn’t formthe words, he didn’t even know how to phrase it. “I…I have a kid.”

Race’s face went blank. “You…Youwhat?”

“I didn’t cheat on you. Ihooked up with this girl a long time ago, over a year. Before we were eventogether. She showed up today and…she told me. It’s between me and this otherguy. So I’m not sure that he’s mine but he could be.”

Race was silent for whatfelt like hours after Spot stopped speaking. Spot was starting to panic. Whatif Race left him? What if he decided he couldn’t handle it, that Spot was toomuch work? It was a real possibility. They hadn’t even moved in together yet,though Race did spend most nights at Spot’s apartment.

“He. So it’s a boy. What’shis name?” Race finally spoke, his voice quiet.

Spot was stunned for amoment, then finally scrambled to respond. “A boy, yeah. Um…his name is Noah.”

“Noah. That’s a cutename. He’s got to be like three or four months old, right?”

Spot had no clue, nofucking clue how old the kid was. “I guess.”

“You’re telling me you didn’teven ask how old your son is?” Race rolled his eyes. “Typical. When are yougoing to see him again?”

Spot shrugged. “I have noidea. I’ve got to send away a cheek swab, so they can test it. Amy said theresults should come back in a couple days.”

Race got to his feet. “Alrightthen. You want to use plates for dinner or just paper towels?” He went to thekitchen, humming some song under his breath.

Spot was frozen for a fewmoments. He slowly got to his feet and followed Race. “Race. Do you understandwhat I said?”

Race nodded, taking aswig of his bottle. “Yeah, I do.”

“And you’re not…scared?”

Race snorted. “No, Spot.I’m not.” He sighed and set the bottle down on the counter, walking over toSpot and kissing him softly. “I’ve thought about our future, you know. Some peopledo think beyond tomorrow.”

Spot’s eyes widened. Afuture? With him? “You have? Really?”

“Yeah, of course.” Racepulled back slightly, linking their fingers together. “I don’t have it allplanned out, but I’ve thought about it. A house, maybe a dog someday. A kid ortwo. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

It did sound nice, comingout of Race’s mouth. Spot could picture it. A little house, not too big or toosmall. A big dog, maybe a lab or a German shepherd. A kid running around, aminiature version of Race. Katherine or Sarah could be their surrogate. Heshook his head, pulling himself out of those thoughts. There was a morepressing issue at hand. “But this isn’t the future. This is now.”

Race shrugged. “Yeah, butthat doesn’t mean we aren’t ready. I…I’m not exactly in this just because Spot.I love you.”

They had said it before,but they didn’t make a habit of it. They weren’t Jack and Crutchie, who toldeach other they loved each other every time they were going to be apart for morethan two minutes. It was only used at certain times. When Race was feelingdysphoric or when Spot had gotten his job or their anniversary. This wasdefinitely the right time to use it. Spot leaned closer to Race. “I love youtoo.”

Race smiled and kissedhis forehead, an action that irked Spot to no end because it reminded him howshort he was, then pulled away. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Spot glanced at theenvelope containing the materials for the test, then walked into the livingroom. He’d put it in the mail later. One way or another, it would be fine. Hehad Race and they had a bright future ahead of them. 

Three days later, the results of the test came back negative. Spot wasn’t a father. But he didn’t feel sad about it, like he thought he would. He would be one someday, if Race still wanted a future with him. It was just a matter of time.

[we-are-inevitable]

not moving on, not looking back // javid (ch. 10)

A/N: y’all know the drill

TW: discussion of abuse (physical and substance related)

Read On AO3!

And that’s how it starts.

They stop at David’s beforehand so he can change out of his slacks, shirt, and tie, and if David purposefully wears an outfit to elicit a certain response from Jack, he plays it off pretty well. He had changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places, hidden under a baggy hoodie that he didn't take off until he was safe within the walls of Jack’s home. It feels… empty, now that Katherine isn’t there to fill the space with her voice, her presence.

It’ll be an adjustment, but as long as Katherine and Jack are okay with it, then David will follow their lead.

David sits alone on his phone while Jack goes upstairs and changes. He scrolls through twitter for a while, until he hears footsteps and-- oh, holy shit. Jack walks into view wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweats, and his hair looks so deliciously messy from combing the gel out. He’d clearly gone for the more comfortable look, and David has to stop himself from staring.

“You want anything to drink?” Jack asks as he walks into the kitchen, which prompts David to stand and follow him. Jack grabs a beer from the fridge, offering a second to David.

“Hey, I know we kind of talked already, but… How are you? Like, really?” David asks as Jack takes a drink.

Jack takes in a deep breath and shrugs as he hops onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, swinging his feet. He looks up at David, who has positioned himself to lean against the counter about two feet in front of Jack. “It… It tore me up for a while last night, after she told me, but honestly? I feel a lot better. Like a weight’s been lifted. I had a bad panic attack, but we talked more last night than we’ve talked to each other in ages, and I… I feel like I got my best friend back, y’know? I didn’t get a lot of sleep, though, just… because it’s makin’ me think about stuff I ain’t never thought about before.”

“Like what?” David asks softly, tilting his head before taking a sip of the beer. “Not that- I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help a little. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just… Family stuff,” Jack admits, then rubs his forehead. “We told my Ma last night and she was, y’know, a bit disappointed, but she understood. I just… The whole divorce thing makes me feel like my dad,” Jack explains softly, crossing his arms over his chest. For someone who is nearing thirty, Jack looks like a vulnerable teenager right then. He slowly looks up into David’s eyes, gulping. “He always said he regretted not getting a divorce. He wasn’t a good guy at all. Homophobic, real republican, but my mom married him because he had a good job and a good family. He was the one to kinda push the whole football thing on me, but I was never good at playin’, y’know? Loved the game, but I didn’t have any skill, trust me," Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Did they get a divorce? Your parents?”

“No, my, uh… My mama died before anything was finalized, and everything kinda took a turn. I got… I don’t know. I was really fucked up for a long time. The school counselor suggested that I start drawing my feelings or starting a journal or something, and it worked. Really well, actually. I loved it.”

“Is that what got you into art? Kath mentioned that you wanted to go to art school,” David murmurs, moving to lean against the island, right next to Jack’s leg.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack says with a laugh, then gulps. “My dad wasn’t a fan of me doing the art stuff. I took an art class in middle school, and we had a showcase at the end of the year. I invited him to it, and he-- Do you, uh, do you mind if I talk about this? I don’t wanna force, like, heavy shit on you if you aren’t comfortable,” Jack cuts himself off, looking at David with a gulp. “I’ve only ever told my ma and Kath about this. My dad just… wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Thanks for checking in, but I don’t mind, okay? I’ll tell you if I’m ever not in the right headspace, but, Jack, you’re going through a lot. Just let it out,” David encourages with a sad grin.

Jack nods, then takes in a deep breath. “So-- Art show. Dad said he wasn’t gonna come. Told me he wasn’t gonna support me doing something ‘queer’, even though I’m- even though I told him I wasn’t,” Jack explains, taking a long drink from his bottle with a blank expression on his face. “But, uh, he didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t, and he… slapped me. That was when I was eleven. The physical stuff continued, ‘specially when football season started up again and he saw that I was on the bench every game, ‘cause I really wasn’t good at it. It got… rough. It only stopped when my coach noticed a bruise when we were practicing and I- I guess I was real stiff and limping real hard, so he told me to sit out, and when I took my pads off, my shirt lifted up, and… My dad was in police custody the next morning.”

“Fuck, Jack,” David says in an apologetic voice, staring at him with a lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry you went through that… Did he go to prison, or--”

“Yeah, there was a bunch of evidence, so- so he went to prison. Really easy case against him. He was supposed to get, um, ten years, I think. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was glad my mom was dead so she didn’t have to see me 'turn gay’- like I said, he was a shitty guy. That… I don’t know. I used to be like that, too, but then one of my friends, a coworker of mine, came out, like… eight years ago?” Jack bites his lip, looking down at his hands after putting his bottle down. “I’ve changed. I realized that I was just actin’ like him. I never realized he was so… bad, until I became an adult.”

“Are you still…” David gulps. “You haven’t talked to your father?”

Jack looks up at David, and smiles sadly. “He had a heart attack in prison, about five years in. So… yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

David is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. This is not how he thought the night would go, but at least Jack was getting to vent and David was getting to know him on an even more personal level but, good God, Jack had been through so much.

And adding being adopted, losing his daughter, and divorcing his wife into the mix…

Jack has hurt more in his life than he ever let on.

“Jack, I… I don’t know what to say,” David admits with a frown, but slowly reaches out, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me all of that. You… You’re so strong, y’know? You’ve been through so much, yet you’re successful and smart and… I know we haven’t known each other long, but I am so, so proud of you. But- but you shouldn't have had to be so strong. You didn't deserve any of that. Not the… Not the abuse, or the homophobia, or the pressure. If you ever need to talk about it again, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Davey, that means a lot,” Jack says with a tight-lipped grin, then gulps. “What about you? You got any skeletons in your closet? 'S only fair that you tell me somethin' sad now, y'know.”

David stares at him for a moment. He then holds up one finger and downs the rest of the beer in his bottle, taking in a deep breath once he is done. His eyes close and he tilts his head back, then begins speaking. “From the age of twenty-two to about a month and a half ago, I was addicted to cocaine. I had a brief stint in which heroin was a daily thing, but that stopped after a few months. Too expensive. I regularly had sex with drug dealers in exchange for pills, I’ve been kicked out of gay bars for showing up high out of my mind, I now go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I have to spend, like, ten minutes every morning trying to convince myself not to call in sick just because I’m having bad withdrawals. Bad as in, like, shaking in the shower and crying because I feel like I need to shoot up.” He slowly opens one eye, shooting a sad grin toward Jack. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, then lets out a laugh as he nods along. “I- I guess you can say that, yeah,” He murmurs, then looks at David with a gulp. “If you ever need anything, just let me know, ‘kay? I don’t… I don’t really have experience with that kind of stuff, but if you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you need to talk, or you… need somewhere to stay,” Jack says slowly, seriously, and David nods. “I’m right here, Dave. Just like you're here for me.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve been getting better, I think- the, uh, withdrawals are starting to mellow out, at least a little bit, but it’s just… getting used to sobriety that’s throwing me for a loop,” David admits. He watches Jack’s eyes shift from his face to the empty bottle in his hand, and David shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking-- I never had an alcohol problem, it was just the drugs. I, uh, don’t drink often, though. Just to make sure.”

David doesn’t drink often because David has an addictive personality. David doesn’t drink often because David knows he’s susceptible to alcoholism if he goes down the wrong path.

It makes him feel better to know that Jack is watching out for him in that way, though.

“If you’re sure,” Jack responds with a kind smile. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Jack finishes his beer, David watches him, and everything is… calm.

But not for long.

“Dave? Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d ya know you were gay?”

David’s eyes widen a bit. He wasn’t expecting... that. He looks up, but Jack refuses to meet his eyes. He’s instead staring at the cabinet above the sink, sitting eerily still, and David isn’t sure how to respond for a few moments. Slowly, David shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “I just never really found an interest in women. Plus, I used to be really into this guy in one of my classes… I don’t know, it was just kind of natural for me. My parents were religious, but they never really said anything about it if I brought guys home for dinner, or if I wore makeup to school. I never really had that… epiphany, I just… I was just gay. Never questioned it,” He explains, holding his breath in the heavy silence that follows. He slowly glances back up toward Jack, expecting to see him staring off into space, but to his surprise Jack is staring right back at him. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Jack gulps. There’s a long moment of silence, before he sits up a little straighter. “Kath has been talking about 'self exploration' ever since yesterday. Mentioned she’s, uh… curious.”

“Mhm.”

Jack meets David’s eyes. He stares for a few moments before locking his lips, straightening his posture, and saying, “I think I might be, too.”

There’s a beat of silence. David holds his breath. Holds Jack’s gaze. He waits for a few moments, waiting for Jack to back down, but it never comes. Finally, David gives in.

He asks, breathless, “Wanna find out?”

There’s no more speaking after that.