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thefactsofthematter · 3 years

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we’ve all lost our way before

a bittersweet, jack-and-medda-centred prequel to this fic i wrote last year. no one requested this, i just felt like pouring out some emotions, so if you’d like to Feel Things with me, be my guest! this can be read as a standalone fic as well, if you haven’t read the original.

read this on ao3 if you want!

javid (sort of); 2.3k; modern au; warning for drug abuse, addiction, and overdose.

Jack is nineteen when he overdoses for the first time.

The saddest part is that he sees it as a strange sort of victory. He's been playing with fire for four or five years now, but only just OD'd. No one— at least not anyone important to him— will know that he was hooked on drugs as a literal child... they'll think of this as a recent problem, that art school was the catalyst in turning him into a junkie. He thinks it might be less shameful this way.

Medda is there when he wakes up in the hospital. He knows exactly what's going on as soon as he comes to consciousness— the familiar ache in his joints tells him that a withdrawal is starting to hit, and the rhythmic beeping, in sync with his heartbeat, is enough to fill in the story of just what happened. He overdid it.

"Mama..." he groans, hardly able to open his eyes. He reaches weakly towards where he can see her sitting in a chair and typing on her phone, with a nervous scrunch to her eyebrows.

She looks up, and then she's there in an instant, right beside him to take his hand.

"Oh Jack..." she whispers, wrapping both her hands around one of his and squeezing. Her voice is wet, like she's been crying. "What've you done to yourself, baby?"

There's a lot he wants to say— that he's ruined his own life, and he's sorry, and he can't believe he's done this to her, and he probably should've just died from the overdose so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore, and he's so so so sorry for everything. None of those words leave his mouth, though.

"I did something bad, didn't I?" he mumbles, feeling his fingers twitch between her hands, but not quite in control of the movement. The doctors must be medicating him somehow, because this isn't a normal comedown. Why is he so tired?

"You sure did," she sighs. She pauses and swallows, as if she's trying to figure out what to say. She finally shakes her head and continues. "You overdosed on heroin, Jack— I found you on the bathroom floor, and your lips and fingers were blue. I thought you were dead."

Jack feels a horrible, horrible little ball of shame start to twist in his gut. It's not regret, necessarily, but he feels bad that she had to see that. He feels bad that he scared her, and that he's making her deal with all this now. He's a horrible son.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his words shake and his fingers twitch again, the nervous jitter that comes with the drugs leaving his system. "I didn't mean to."

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. He can tell she's trying to be empathetic, and that she's angry with him but she doesn't want to show him that.

"I know you didn't," she says. "I know, darling." She rubs her thumb in little circles on the back of his hand. "But did you even think for a second, when you decided to shoot up in there, that one of the boys could've found you?"

This is a point that she likes to drive home whenever he's in trouble. Jack is the oldest of four, and he needs to be responsible because his brothers look up to him. He was a teenager when she adopted him, and he knew that by joining the family, he was stepping up to be a role model for Crutchie, Race, and Albert. He'd been so honoured, and he really thought he could do it, at the time.

"No," he finally croaks, because of course he didn't consider it— he wasn't planning on overdosing. "I'm sorry."

The youngest, Albert, is only twelve— and even at that, he's awfully naive for his age. He probably doesn't even know what heroin is or what it can do, and now Medda's going to have to tell him that his brother almost died from it. Of course the boys are going to ask questions, and Jack knows Medda will answer them honestly. She's not a fan of keeping secrets.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks, after a moment. She sounds so hurt, like the thought of Jack's addiction physically pains her. It makes him want to vomit. "The doctor said some of the needle marks on your arms look like they've been there for years. When did it start?"

Jack can't bring himself to answer. It's too embarrassing.

He was such a stupid, gullible fourteen year-old that he let the older boys in his last foster home before Medda's place do this to him— it was a group home where they were horribly abused in every way you can possibly think of, and everyone was searching for a way to cope. They told him drugs would make everything better, and they held his arm still while they injected him with the tiniest amount of heroin, and suddenly he wasn't scared or in pain anymore. He couldn't feel anything. It was the best he's ever felt, and he knew right then that this was going to become a problem. His parents had been addicts, he knew it ran in his blood, but he let himself fall into the trap anyways. It's horrible.

"I want to go to sleep now," is all he says, purposefully avoiding the question. His eyes feel droopy and heavy, and the ache of the withdrawal is growing stronger, and he knows that if he doesn't sleep now it'll only get worse.

"Please, Jack," Medda whispers, not giving it up. She's squeezing his hand almost desperately. "How long?"

He lets his eyes fall shut and weakly attempts to wrench his hand away from hers.

"I'm tired, Mama."

A heavy sigh.

"Okay."

She lets go of his hand and moves instead to pet his hair, even as he turns his face away from her and tries to roll onto his side in a pitiful attempt to show that he wants to be left alone. She hums softly as she does so, and it makes Jack's chest feel tight like he's going to cry. He finally has a mother who loves him, after all these years of wishing for one, and all he can do is disappoint her.

Medda is on the phone the next time he's awake.

"Did you know he was abusing drugs, David?" she asks, and her tone is almost accusatory, like she thinks Davey had something to do with this. "He overdosed on heroin last night."

Davey must panic on the other end of the call, because her tone suddenly goes much softer.

"No, no, he's okay. He's in the hospital, but he'll be alright." She pauses and sighs. "The doctor said it looks like he's been using for a couple years, at least. You didn't know?"

Jack decides not to open his eyes just yet— he's nauseous and his stomach aches. He's sure that if he were to force himself to vomit it might alleviate it somewhat, but he wants to hear what Medda and Davey might talk about, so he just doesn't move.

"Okay," Medda sighs. "I understand. I had no idea either— it's scary how well he hid it. He overdosed in the bathroom at home; he must've been using drugs in the house this whole time, and I never caught on."

Jack's awfully ashamed of that bit. He didn't used to do it at home— he only did it on occasion when he was younger, and he'd save it for when he was with friends, or if he had a really bad day. It's just the past few months that have gotten so bad... he can't go a day without it anymore. He gets dope sick, craves his next dose until he can finally shoot up, and it doesn't even really get him high. He needs heroin to feel normal these days. He's been at home, around his little brothers, with that god-awful drug coursing through his body. He hates himself so, so deeply for that.

He needs help. He knows he needs help. But he somehow doesn't want it— he knows it won't work. He'll end up checking himself out of rehab, or wherever Medda tries to send him, and he'll go right back to the drugs. Being sober is hard, and being high is easy. He likes that easy, relaxed feeling, and he knows that any amount of time he spends sober will just make the next high feel even better.

"I'm going to try to get him straight from the hospital into rehab," Medda says on the phone, which makes Jack feel horrible that he's already planning on refusing that idea. "You've got school, sweetheart, this isn't your responsibility. Come by for a visit if you'd like, but don't get to thinking you have to look after him or anything... oh, I know you love him. I know, dear. But you have to put yourself first, alright?"

Jack doesn't like listening to this anymore. Medda's going to convince Davey to break up with him, isn't she? She doesn't think Jack deserves to have a boyfriend as lovely as Davey, since he's such a disappointment— she's right, but it makes his chest ache anyways.

"Mama," he groans, finally letting her know he's awake. He feels like a helpless little kid as he reaches out for her yet again. "I feel sick. I'm gonna puke."

The light hurts his eyes as he opens them, and he barely registers Medda pressing a little paper bowl into his hands for him to vomit into. He leans forward and gags into it, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sunlight while she rubs a hand gently up and down his back.

"I'll let you go, Davey," she sighs into the phone. "Text me when you get here, alright?"

Jack tries to ask if that means Davey is coming to see him, but it comes out a little garbled when he realizes he's not done throwing up. He interrupts himself to shove his face back in the little bowl and heave yet again. It takes until he's finished puking to realize that he began to cry somewhere in the middle of it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," he finally says, once he's sure it's over. He leans his head back against the pillows and finally says the words he's been dreading. "I... If you don't want me anymore, I understand. It's okay."

This must catch Medda off-guard, because it takes her a second to process it. She's perfectly calm as she takes the little bowl from him and sets it somewhere for a nurse to take away, but then she turns back around to him with a confused frown.

"Hang on, what?" she asks. "Jack, baby, what are you talking about? Where did you get that idea from?"

Truthfully, the thought hasn't fully left his mind since the day they signed the adoption papers, a little over two years ago. He's always figured that she'd get sick of him at some point— he's even looked into how an adoption can be annulled, so that he's prepared for when the day eventually comes. She'll realize he's not worth all the trouble he causes, she'll see how messed up he is, and she'll get rid of him for good.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, not quite able to look her in the eyes. He wipes pitifully at the tears on his cheeks and forces himself to keep talking. "If you want to, like, cancel out the adoption... that's alright. It's not fair that you have to deal with me when I'm so awful."

She's silent for a second, and Jack is sure that this is it. She'll undo the adoption, kick him out of the family, and he'll be all on his own again. He doesn't want that, of course, but he understands why she would do it.

"John Francis Kelly," she finally says, and she comes over to the bed to cup his cheeks and hold onto his face. "Look at me. Nothing you could ever say or do could make me even consider that. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Nothing could ever, ever make me stop loving you."

This is where Jack finally breaks. She's too good to him— he can't understand what he's done in his fucked-up life to deserve to meet someone like her. He's done nothing to earn her love, but she gives it to him unconditionally anyways, and he simply can't comprehend it. He sobs, leaning forward into her arms; she hugs him tight and just holds him there.

"You're my son, Jack," she whispers, as his head rests in the crook of her neck and she rocks him back and forth. "Okay? It doesn't matter that I've only had you for a few years... that doesn't make it any less real. No matter how many mistakes you make— no matter what you do or where you are, I'll always be your mother. You're not getting rid of me." She gently combs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "You got yourself into a tough spot, but we'll get you out, baby. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm sorry," Jack sobs, as if he hasn't said it enough today. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," Medda replies. "I know, baby. You made some mistakes, but it's not the end of the world. We're gonna fix it together, alright?"

Jack can do nothing more than cry at this point, so Medda just rubs his back and pets his hair. She shushes him softly, as if she's soothing an infant, and he simply clings onto her for dear life. He doesn't deserve how wonderful she is.

#my writing #jack kelly #medda larkin #davey jacobs #javid #newsies fic #if you read it on ao3 the end notes are about what happens between this and the og fic #please rb!! it helps people see it!

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

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Out Of Town

Next installment of my BMW AU!

Hope ya’ll like it!

“Jack!” Race called as he saw his teacher walking through the halls to his classroom. “Jack, thank God, just the man I wanted to see!”

Jack only gave him a glance back. He kept walking through the door of his room. “Hey, kid,” he greeted simply, rushing to write his lesson plans on the whiteboard.

“Boy, it is good — nay, it is great to see you!” the boy said with relief falling from his lips.

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to the kid, watching his red headed best friend trail in behind him, mildly amused. “You both saw me in class twenty minutes ago,” he shrugged, turning back to continue writing.

There was a grin on Race’s face. One that Jack knew all too well. He may have only spent the summer with this kid living in his apartment. But he knew him well by now. “Then why the heck do I miss you so much?” The boy wanted something.

So Jack rolled his eyes and continued on.

Race’s smile dropped and he turned back to his friend. Albert shrugged. “Tell him how good he looks,” he suggested.

“You look good!” Race said, turning back to his teacher who finally turned to face him fully. “Have you dropped a few LBs?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed and he looked back and forth between these two kids carefully. “Tell me it ain’t my stereo again,” he sighed, leaning over his desk to get a closer look at his students.

Those blue eyes blinked as Race tried to come up with an excuse for that one. All he could do was shake his head. “Nope. Still drying out,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Then he quickly picked back up, a smile coming back to his face. “So listen! My friend Albie over here—“ Albert gave a small wave. “He tells me you’re goin’ outta town this weekend...”

Jack shook his head and brought his hands up in front of him, fumbling for words for a moment. “What do ya mean he told you? I told you myself, remember? I looked right at you and said ‘I’m goin’ out of town, you’re stayin’ at the DaSilva’s. Don’t you listen?”

Race looked at him, looking as though he was trying hard to focus. But he got nothing. “What?”

Jack scoffed and reached to take the boy’s face in his hand. He squeezed Race’s cheeks a bit to make sure he wouldn’t move. “Racer. I’m going out of town this weekend,” he said slowly, over annunciating every syllable to make sure the kid understood him.

Albert laughed.

Race just glared at him.

Jack smirked and let him go. “C’mon, little buddy, we talked about this. I’m goin’ to a friend’s wedding this weekend. I already bought the plane ticket. I rented a tux! You’re stayin’ with DaSilva. Got me?”

“People get married everyday!” Race whined.

Albert places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tony, may I?”

“Please!” Race replied, stepping aside so Al was now standing in front of their English teacher.

“Look, Mr. Kelly, how many times does a guy get to go out on a date with Veronica Watson?” he asked, his voice mysterious and quiet. Almost like he was telling a secret. Jack didn’t react. But Albert kept going. “That’s right, Mr. Kelly. The Veronica Watson.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, Jack gaped. “Oh... oh...” he breathed, as if he was realizing something for the first time. “I’ll just cancel!” Albert turned back to Race like he’d done something. Race wasn’t buying it. “Yeah! I’ll just return my non refundable plane ticket, my buddy will just push back his wedding, three hundred chicken kiev’s will have died in vain, that way, the world can make Anthony Higgins happy.” Sarcasm dripped from every part of Kelly’s being.

Race glared up at the man who’d taken him in. “You’re a murderer of love,” he growled.

Jack laughed and reached to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’re staying with the DaSilva’s this weekend. Clear?”

Race sighed in defeat. “Clear...” He responded.

That was when the bell rang.

Albert left without another word. But just as Race turned to go, a very certain girl walked into the room. She didn’t even speak. She just gave him a smile and pecked him on the cheek.

Race melted.

He turned back, giving Jack his best puppy dog eyes.

Jack wasn’t phased. “No.”

All Race could do was pout as he dragged his feet out the door.

—

Race was pushed up against the wall of the hallway just outside Jack’s apartment. Veronica smiled after him. And Race grinned. “Okay, okay, hold on,” he laughed, grabbing the key from his pocket. He paused as he was about to unlock the door. “Ya ever been inside a teachers apartment before?” he asked, giving her a wink as she giggled.

He unlocked the door. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But he’d die if he had to sit through the DaSilva’s embarrassing him throughout this date any more.

He pushed the door open, flicking the light on, ready to toss this girl down on the couch.

Only... someone was already on the couch.

Two someone’s actually.

Jack whirled around. Ms. Plumber gasped and shoved the man’s hand out from beneath her shirt as she sat up straight and looked at the wall ahead of her. Jack wasn’t wearing a shirt. Her own hair was a mess.

Race gaped. “What are you doin’ here?”

Jack gaped back. “What are you doin’ here?” He shot back.

The boy froze for a moment. “Jack... this isn’t what it looks like—“ Race tried, wanting to defend himself, a small fear growing in his chest when Jack looked at him like he was now. Like he was disappointed.

Jack stood from the couch and grabbed a discarded tank top from where it had been thrown over the coffee table. He slipped it on. “Oh... by all means, Higgins, what is it?”

For a moment, Race thought of nothing. But then he smiled. “See, I mean, you’re her favorite teacher n’ she wanted ta see where you live,” he lied quickly, turning back towards the girl. “Well, that about wraps up this tour! Next stop, Kloppy’s!” he stated, trying to shoo her out the door so they could make a run for it.

But Jack was faster than that. “Stay!” he called, knowing the boy knew better than to ignore him. The two teenagers froze. And Race slowly turned around. “Tony... Cmon, kid, what d’ya take me for?” he scoffed.

A hand came down on the man’s back. Katherine smiled at him. “Jack, I think I’ll give you two some space. I’ll take this girl home while I’m at it,” she stated.

Jack sighed but nodded. “Okay... I’ll call you later,” he promised. He pulled her in for a quick kiss before she placed her arms firmly around Veronica’s shoulders and pulled her out of the apartment.

Jack shut the door behind them and turned back to the kid. “Tony, what the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, staring him down and waiting for some kind of explanation.

Race shrugged and let out a nervous scoff. “I mean, you saw her, there ain’t much ta think about,” he laughed.

Jack was not amused. “You were supposed ta be at the DaSilva’s, Tony. How in the hell am I supposed ta trust you, when—“

Bringing his hands up as a sign of peace, Race nodded. “Alright! I know, I’m sorry...” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes. “I just thought that...” he trailed off, thinking for a moment before a small smile spread on his lips. “Hey... hold on a second, how was the wedding, pal?” he asked pointedly.

His teacher froze for a moment. It was clear he didn’t know what to say. “That... that’s not the point—“

“Yeah, hey, that tuxedo, does it come in tuxedo?” Race questioned, pointing at the simple black tank top Jack wore.

“Hey! That’s enough! I’m the adult here—“

“Which means what? That you can lie n’ I can’t?” The boy shot at the man immediately.

Jack stopped for a moment and shook his head, frustrated and stressed. He didn’t know what to do. “I... I don’t have ta defend myself here, Racer... it’s my place... I just needed a little bit of privacy,” he admitted.

But the hurt in Race’s eyes said it all. And he nodded. “Oh... yeah... I’m sorry... I’ll just... I’ll get out of your hair, then,” he breathed, shaking his head before retreating back out the door.

Guilt piled up in Jack’s chest immediately. “Tony, wait...” he tried to call.

But it was too late.

Race was already too far away from him to catch.

—

It was hours before Jack gave up the search for the kid. He sighed as he ran a hand over his face, letting himself back into his home. He was ready to call the cops.

And of course, there, sitting alone on his couch, was the boy he’d been going crazy looking for all night. “Oh Jesus Christ, Tony...” The boy didn’t look at him. So Jack stepped further into the room.

“Where were you?” Race asked, his voice small and quiet.

Shrugging off his jacket, Kelly shook his head. “I was looking for you...” he admitted, stepping closer to the boy.

“Yeah?”

Jack nodded. “Where did you go?”

“I... I just... went,” Race stated vaguely, standing from the couch and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the small kitchen area. “Then I realized I had no place ta go... so I came back...”

The sentence was sad. But Jack couldn’t have been more grateful.

This boy had scared the hell out of him. “I’m... I’m glad you’re here...” Race sniffled and shrugged. So Jack continued, walking over to him. “Listen, kid... I’m new at this... I... you don’t come with an instruction manual, alright? I makin’ this up as I go along,” the teacher admitted.

Race looked up at him. “You lied ta me.”

Jack could only nod. “Yeah... I did...” He made sure to catch the boy’s gaze. “N’ I’m real sorry... I shoulda just been straight with you...” He made it over to the boy who leaned up against the counter behind him. “But you ain’t no saint here, pal... you should not be bringin’ girls to an empty apartment and ya know it.”

“So what... ya gonna kick me out?” The words broke Jack’s heart. He sighed before all he was able to do was wrap his arms around the kid and pull him to his chest. Race stiffened for a moment before melting beneath the touch. Jack had one hand gently caressing the back of his neck and the other wrapped around his back. The boy didn’t know what to do. He raised up his arms, allowing them to slowly wrap around Jack’s middle.

He hadn’t been held like this since... well... he wasn’t sure he’d ever been held like this.

“S-so... that’s a no?”

Jack laughed. “Kid, you’re impossible. But I like ya too much ta j’st throw ya out like that...”

Race didn’t respond.

He just stayed in those arms.

And for that moment, everything was okay.

#newsies #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #source: boy meets world #boy meets world #newsies live #newsies musical #jonathan turner #katherine plumber #shawn hunter #cory matthews #much love #angst #humor #sadness

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ok-but-what-about-connor · 5 years

Text

Wake Up

Words: 1647

Pairing: Platonic Ralbert, if that counts

Warnings: Gets pretty angsty at one point, mentions of past abuse

((This all takes place sometime before the strike/musical plot))

~~~ = time skip

In the Manhattan lodging house, it wasn't uncommon to see newsies sharing beds together. Many situations, at any given time of the year, would have newsies piling on top of each other and pushing for room beneath the blankets. They couldn't care less about what others thought of it, because at the end of the day, they were all just exhausted kids who needed to get some rest. Rest, plus just an extra bit of love. That was important too.

~~~~~~~

"Heads up!" Jojo, who had been innocently trying to get some shut-eye, had no time to prepare himself before Romeo was being tossed in the air by Race and Finch and landing on top of him. Jojo coughed out a groan into his pillow before rolling onto his back. Romeo, still having not moved off of Jojo, grinned widely. Jojo was lucky the little bugger was lightweight, otherwise he would have knocked all the air out of him. Both Race and Finch beamed with the same mischievous faces.

"Didja all collectively decide today was Use-Romeo-As-a-Projectile-To-Throw-At-Jojo Day?" He grumbled, but couldn't help laughing.

"Romeo only wanted to tell you 'bout his day, 's all." Finch replied. Jojo raised an eyebrow and flicked his gaze back to the short boy, who nodded excitedly.

"Oh alright, but get offa me first." He ordered.

Romeo must not have anticipated how tired he actually was, because he had barely finished explaining how he found a flock of chickens running rampant on the streets before he talked himself to sleep, snoring loudly beside Jojo. Jojo just laughed. It wasn't the first time.

~~~~~~~

"Jack, I'm gonna need you ta take a couple of the littles outta my hair." Albert whispered. A tiny newsboy was curled up in both of his arms. Despite them being asleep, they shivered from the cold.

"I already have my own to deal with, Al." Jack said as he gestured to the two littles snoozing next to him. Albert rolled his eyes, but his face remained serious.

"You'se actin' like there ain't more ova at mine. That cot's overflowin' with kids. They were clinging to the mattress just ta stay on, the seven of them."

Jack snorted quietly. " 'S cause you're warmer than the sun."

"Jack."

"Alright, alright. Hand 'em over." He shifted so his arms were above the blanket rather than under the heads of sleeping littles. Albert handed his two over carefully without waking either of them. A true talent.

"Thanks a bunch, Jackie." Albert murmured before returning to his respective cot. As Jack followed him with his eyes, he could see that Albert indeed had hardly any room to squeeze himself onto. Jack sighed and massaged at his hand that had recently fallen asleep from the kids laying on it for so long.

Most of the time, Jack slept through the night just fine when kids were with him, because he had become so used to it, but tonight he stirred from a tight feeling on his chest. He craned his neck to see that, instead of having four newsies with him, the number somehow accumulated to six. The two new ones, both girls, were piled on his chest and making it rather hard for him to breathe, but he pulled them closer and tugged on the blanket to make sure they didn't freeze. All in a night's work.

~~~~~~~

Race was just beginning to drift off when a noise pulled him from his almost-dream. It was a noise different from that of ruffling bed sheets or the average snoring, although Race couldn't put a finger on what it was. It came from the fire escape, trailing in through the opened window. He strained his ears, listening for another sound, trying to find out if it was a possible intruder, a boy leaving the lodging house when he shouldn't be, a stray cat that had clambered up onto the platform, or anything else he could possibly anticipate. That's when he heard it.

A shaky sob, barely audible, sounded out.

Race had not anticipated that.

Slowly, Race got out of bed and crept over to the window. He was concerned, but still wary of embarrassing the person. He wasn't about to let them sit out there by themself though. Outside, there was a boy curled up on the fire escape with his face buried in his arms. Race couldn't tell who it was for a moment, until one shift of the boy's posture revealed bright red hair visible in the moonlight. Oh.

"Albert," Race whispered, "God..."

The impact from Race's feet jarred the platform, but he didn't care. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious how much Albert was shaking. His whole body looked uncomfortably stiff as well, like he was in a permanent state of waiting to take a punch.

"Albert? What's wrong?" Race frowned nervously as he crouched down to be eye level with him. Albert didn't move.

"Come on Al. 'S me, Racetrack." Race waited for a reaction. Albert's shoulders had stopped shaking, but his restrained sobs could still be heard. Great, now he was just holding back feelings. That's not what Race nor Albert needed at all.

"You ain't Racer. Get away from me." Albert's voice was thick and tremulous. It was so out of character that it caused Race's stomach to grow heavy with fear.

"It's me, Albie. Look at me, please. It's only me." Race begged. His heart absolutely shattered when he saw two brown eyes peek out from where they were hidden; tears dripped off his face and his brows were scrunched up from panic. He watched as his friend's gaze darted around his face.

"Racer?" Albert's voice cracked in a whisper.

"Yeah, it's me Al. What's wrong?" Race asked. So many questions swirled in his head, but they could wait for now. Albert swallowed back a shaky breath.

"I was goin' ta sleep at my place tonight, but when I got home I saw my dad an' brothers fightin'." He sniffed. "I ran back here and- I just got upset or somethin'. I didn't even think of checking the window ta see if it was closed or not."

Race shook his head a bit, still not understanding. "So you planned on sitting out here alone with no one to talk to?"

"Yeah! And then you came out here and decided to-" Albert's hands gripped at his hair angrily and a range of emotions played out across his face, like he wasn't sure how to react. But then, his expression contorted back into one of fear and sadness like before. He was crying again.

"Hey hey hey... it's okay. I'm right here with you." Race said, trying to calm Albert down.

"But you wasn't! Not when I needed you!" Albert yelled. Race almost turned around to see if he'd woken anybody else with his voice, but decided against it.

"Whaddya mean I wasn't with you?" He questioned.

"The Refuge..." Albert croaked. Suddenly, everything that had happened in the past five months flashed in Race's mind at once.

All the way back in the wintertime- it must have been December, since May was just beginning- Race and Albert both got tossed into the Refuge. They may have been together when they were chased by the bulls, but they certainly weren't once they'd arrived. Snyder had them separated on the spot, and it stayed that way for nearly a month until they could both break back out. They had Mush deliver letters back-and-forth to each of their windows, so sometimes they heard from each other, but the letters only held friendly affirmations, little 'You'll be okay's and 'We'll bust out soon's. Once they left, Race never asked Albert about what happened to him during their stay, and Albert never asked Race, and they left it at that. Race hadn't ever thought Albert went through more than a disciplinary slap. Until now.

Albert carried on. "Right when I walked through the door, when I heard my father yellin' at my brothers, every memory from that prison was eatin' me up outta nowhere. How I got thrown around each night without ever doin' anything. And ya just abandoned me like that, and I thought I'd neva see that stupid face of yours again. Dammit Race!" He cried.

Race didn't hesitate a moment longer to pull Albert to his chest and hold him tightly.

"I'm here now. I wish I could have been with you the whole time we were apart. 'M sorry." He whispered, continuing to echo empty apologies into the night air again and again after that, as he and Albert sat curled up on the rickety fire escape together. The tears that he had been keeping at bay now fell and mixed with the already-wet patch on his shirt from Albert.

"You're safe now." Race said once Albert's breathing had steadied out. He felt the redhead nod weakly in reply. The stars were no longer visible. Dark clouds had blocked them out. A few raindrops landed on Race's hair and face, making him flinch.

"We should probably head inside. Weather's pickin' up." He pointed out.

"I ain't got no money for rent." Albert said, pulling away from the boy and running a hand through his own hair.

"It won't cost ya anything unless you're sleeping in your own cot, which you won't be." Race remarked with a coy smile. He pulled Albert up with him by the hands and quietly led him back into the lodging house.

Race didn't ask why Albert buried his face in the crook of his neck when they laid down, or how he grabbed at his shirt in order to pull him closer, or how he muttered a tiny "Thank you" before falling asleep. He didn't have to. He already understood well enough.

Tag list:

@nerdsies

@the-art-ofdying

@kadenistrying

@sadsackofcellophane

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@daveysexual

@gaby-rodriguez13

@wayward-demigod-witch

#newsies #race higgins #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #jojo newsies #jorgelino josephino de la guerra #romeo newsies #finch cortez #finch newsies #jack kelly #newsies fic #my writing

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noorsworld-daily · 5 years

Text

STORM

It was pouring heavily and Mahira’s car had broken down in the middle of nowhere. She was driving back from her cousin’s wedding, all alone, when the battery died in the middle of the road. She tried calling her brother, but he didn’t pick up. She had locked all the doors but was still scared. She had come to Los Angles for the first time, just to attend her sister’s wedding, all the way from India. But she left the wedding in between because her other family members could not stop talking about how her fiancé literally left her at the alter a year ago. Even her cousins, who were supposed to be her support. All everyone was talking about how it must have been her fault, wondering how she could attend her cousin’s wedding so soon, and how she should stay away from the single boys. She could see how embarrassed her parents were, but they just kept on smiling for their daughter. She could not take it anymore. She took her brother’s car keys and ran out of there. Her parents and brother tried to stop her, but she could not bear it anymore.

And now Mahi was stranded in the middle of nowhere. She was somewhere on Mt. Hollywood Drive and the place looked really familiar to the one where Mia and Sebastian dance after attending the house party. It was really dark apart from the light provided by a single street light. She had read and seen too many serial killer novels and shows, that it was all she could think about right now. Mahira tried her brother again but now there was no signal. Just as she had given up all hope, Mahi saw the headlights of a car approaching her from the opposite direction. It stopped on the other side of the road and a tall man stepped out. Her heartbeat started to race as the man approached her. He bent down and knocked on her window. She jumped a little and switched on her phone’s flashlight to see the man’s face. To her astonishment, it was none other than Vikram Singh Raichand, the Bollywood superstar.

Vikram was in LA shooting for his third Hollywood film. His first two films had been extremely successful, and he had already established himself as a successful Hollywood actor as well. He was coming back from his shoot when he saw a car in the middle of the road. It had probably broken down and the person was stranded in this heavy rain. He went to check and even though it was dark inside, he could see that it was a girl, who jumped when he knocked on the window. Then he was blinded by her flashlight. He signaled her to roll down her window, and she slightly cracked it.

“Please don’t be scared. My name is Vikram Singh Raichand. I saw your car in the middle of the road and wanted to make sure you were alright,” he spoke over the sound of the pouring rain.

“I know who you are. My car actually broke down, and I’ve been trying to call my brother but there’s no signal.”

“My house is actually nearby; you could come with me. We can call for help from my house. If you don’t mind. The weather’s getting pretty bad and it’s not safe for you to be alone here.”

Mahira collected her things keys and stepped out of the car. Vikram noticed that she was wearing a lehenga - choli, with her dupatta draped on her left shoulder and tucked into her lehenga on the right side. Her hair was open with soft waves that reached her waist. She was immediately drenched after stepping out of the car. She looked up at Vikram and their eyes met. They were standing really close to each other. Their lips only a few inches apart. No one moved a muscle and they just stood there in the rain, looking into each other’s eyes, when a clap of thunder roared through the sky and broke them out of their trance. Mahira jerked and grabbed Vikram’s hand.

“Sorry!” She apologized while releasing his hand.

“It’s okay. Let’s go,” they ran towards his car and drove away.

*** They reached Vikram’s house in fifteen minutes. It was a huge mansion with a guard in the front and there was a patrol car parked near his house. Mahi thought to herself that if something goes wrong, not that it would, there was a patrol car nearby. And she had also texted her brother about her whereabouts. The door was opened by a woman, who was probably in her late 40s. Mahi learned that she was the housekeeper, Mrs. Albert.

Mrs. Albert offered Mahi a glass of water, then put on a fresh pot of coffee for them.

“It’s okay Mrs. Albert, I can do the rest. You should get going before the weather worsens. Ask Jones to drop you.”

“Thank you, Vikram. Take care little girl.”

As soon as she left, Vikram turned to her and asked, “I hope you don’t mind being alone with me? She has three kids waiting for her.”

“Not at all. And I texted my brother where I was the moment I got into your car.”

Vikram laughed, “You’re smart. By the way, the landline’s in there,” he said pointing towards the room on her right. She got up from the sofa and handed over her towel to Vikram. She entered the room, which turned out to be his study. She dialed her brother and he finally picked up.

“What’s with this text? And where are you exactly? I ran behind the car, but you wouldn’t stop. Mom and dad are going berserk. Tell me your address I’ll come and get you.”

“Slow down… I’m absolutely fine. Vikram helped me, I’m at his house right now. And no need to come, you enjoy with Elsa, she was really excited to attend her first Indian wedding and the weather is getting worse. I’ll call a cab and go straight to your house. Plus, I feel safe, so don’t worry about me.”

“If you say so but call me anytime if you need me. Bye”

“Bye.”

When she reached the living room, Vikram had already placed her coffee on the center table. Handing her the coffee mug he said, “You should change your clothes. I got you my T-shirt and shorts to go with it. I’ll put your clothes in the dryer.”

“Thank you so much,” Mahi said taking the clothes from him.

“The room is through there,” he said pointing towards it.

Mahi quickly went in and changed her clothes. Vikram put the clothes in the dryer and they both settled down on the couch to have their coffee. Vikram could not take his eyes off her. The way her hair fell around her face…. like he was falling from grace. The sight of her sitting in front of him sipping her coffee with damp hair and blushed cheeks was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

They were silent for a few minutes when he broke it by asking, “Were you going to a wedding when your car broke down?”

Mahi looked up and hesitantly replied, “More like running away from one.”

“You ran away from your wedding?”

“No! It was my cousin’s wedding. I ran away because of gossip. My fiancé left me literally at the mandap, a few months ago and that’s all anyone could talk about. Saying things like it must have been my fault and that who’s going to marry me now.” Mahi didn’t find it uncomfortable telling all this to Vikram, maybe because he was a stranger.

“Don’t pay attention to these worthless gossips. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“You seem very confident. You’ve only known me for a few minutes.”

“What can I say? I’m a good judge of character,” he replied with a grin.

Suddenly the lights went off and a loud thunder roared through the sky. Mahi was too busy looking around and asking what happened, she did not seem to notice that she was holding on to Vikram’s hand.

He got up to go check the fuse, but Mahi insisted on following him, still holding on to his hand. He smiled and led the way to the fuse box. She stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a large knife.

“Hold on, why that,” he said pointing to the knife.

“What is there is a serial killer in the house?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, that’s how these things always go down, don’t you know about the Manson murders? The Tate/Labianca murders?” Mahi asked with a serious expression. Vikram could not help but laugh at how innocent and cute this girl was.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He couldn’t find an umbrella, so they went out without one and were again drenched in the rain. As they reached the fuse box, they saw two of the guards standing in front of it. The power was cut due to the weather and would be back in a few hours. As they were walking back towards the house, another loud thunder tore through the sky and Mahi turned towards Vikram and buried her face in his chest. She slowly released him and looked up. Their eyes were locked in a magical trance. It was still pouring heavily, and Mahi was shivering. But neither seemed to notice. Vikram now had his arms around her waist. Their lips were just a few centimeters apart. She did the mistake of biting her lip which caused all sorts of sensations to run through his body. He slowly started leaning into her, but she pulled away and turned around to walk towards the house. As she took her second step, he quickly pulled her towards him and crashed his lips onto hers. This was the most passionate kiss of their entire lives. It made her weak in the knees and she had to grab onto his neck for support. Their tongues were intertwined together and there was no telling them apart. He kept on leaning into her, and now she was bent backward with his hands supporting her. He jerked her upright and pushed her against the wall. They continued kissing for a few seconds and he moved down to her neck.

Mahi let out a soft moan as Vikram continued kissing her neck. He then moved back to her lips and they entered the house while kissing. Vikram locked the door and lifted her, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took her to the kitchen counter and sat her on top of it. They continued kissing, none of them stopping for air. It was as though they had forgotten breathing. Only they mattered now. Mahi started unbuttoning his shirt and it was soon on the floor. His body looked as if it was carefully sculpted by a genius artist. Soon Mahi’s T - shirt came off too. She was still on the counter and Vikram was kissing her all over the body. Mahi could not help but run her hands over his chest, torso and his gorgeous hair.

“God! I love the way you moan,” Vikram said picking her up and going upstairs to his room.

He threw her on the bed and removed his trousers. He was now only in his briefs. This was the most beautiful sight for Mahi. Vikram climbed over her and slowly removed her shorts. She sat up and he carefully removed her bra and then her underwear, all the while gazing into her eyes. She was again shivering. Vikram put his right arm around her waist and pushed her towards the back so that she was now lying down with her head resting on the pillow. He pulled the quilt over them and took her in his arms.

He looked at her and whispered, “Are you sure?” “I’ve never been so sure,” she whispered back giving him a peck on his lips. He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, her lips and slowly moved down to her chin, clavicle, sternum and then naval. Mahi let out a deep moan when he kissed her naval. He slowly made his way down to her vagina and started kissing her there. She let out a series of moans and pulled him back to her mouth.

He slowly entered her, with patience as he was kissing her neck. Steadily he increased his pace, and Mahi's loud, sensual moans made him thrust even harder. It was getting difficult for her to keep her eyes open. The pleasure was almost painful for her. She had never felt these sensations before. She had had sex before, but this was something completely different. It was sacred. His deep grunts with each thrust had the same effect on her, as her moans had on him. Both of them soon came and together. It seemed as if her soul had been taken forever by Zeus.

He slumped on the bed next to her. They just laid there staring at each other. They weren't awkward at all, they were comfortable in each other's silence. She wrapped up the quilt around her body and went downstairs to grab a bottle of water. She was exhausted but still had this energy in her that she could not explain. When she came back, Vikram was asleep on the bed, completely naked. He looked like a Greek God taking a nap. She went and put her head on his chest. He put his hand on her hair and started stroking it. He kissed her again and again. Mahi was sitting on her knees between Vikram's legs and he was kissing the nape of her neck. He took hold of her hair in his left hand and moved to the side of her neck. He continued kissing the entire length of her neck on both sides. This was the hottest experience for her. She did not know how to react. Her moans were getting out of control. She had no restraint over her body. She raised her arms above her head and let her hands get lost in his gorgeous hair. They continued like this for a few minutes and soon she climaxed.

They both dropped on the bed, extremely exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep. For the first time, Mahi could sleep peacefully, without any fear, during the rain. When she woke up in the morning, Vikram's side of the bed was empty. She put on her shorts and took a T-shirt from Vikram's closet. She went downstairs and Vikram was in the kitchen, making breakfast.

He looked up and gave her a big smile, " Good morning!"

"Good morning."

"Don't freak out, but your brother is in the garden outside, talking to your mother."

"What?! How did he get here? Shit! I texted him the address."

Her brother entered the kitchen and gave her a knowing grin, "Love your outfit sis. Very chic."

"What was mom saying?"

"I told her that you spent the night at a friend's house. A female friend's house. She would have freaked out if I told her where you actually spent the night. We should get going though, she's worried. It was nice meeting you Vikram and thank you for helping her."

"The pleasure's all mine," he looked at her gave her a wink. Mahi blushed and looked down.

"Uh... I'm waiting in the car," Her brother said and left the house.

Vikram went inside a room and came out with a bag. "These are your clothes, from last night."

"Thank you," she took the bag and just stood there. No one said anything for a few seconds. They just looked at each other.

"I'll return your clothes in the afternoon."

"Yes please. It's my favorite T-shirt. And will you be returning it yourself?"

"I will, after all, that's the least I can do to repay you for your exceptional hospitality last night," she replied with a smile.

"Yes and how about dinner tonight?"

"I would love that."

"I'll call you. That reminds me I don't have your number."

She wrote her number on a piece of paper and put it on the counter.

"Bye! See you tonight!" And she rushed out the door.

Vikram was a little disappointed as he did not get to kiss her. When he turned around he saw Mahi running towards him and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. She hugged him, kissed his cheek and again rushed out. He heard the engine start and soon the sound of the car faded away. Vikram could not help but laugh.

Last night he had met the girl with whom he would spend the rest of his life.

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jack-kellys · 6 years

Text

today is Halloween

here's a real wild ralbert spider-man au fic that takes place on Halloween

enjoy

__________________

another day on the job

warnings: cursing, al's a cop, someone gets s m a c k e d, yeah that's it how unusual for me,

words: 1700 ish oh jeez

yep

——

Race was late again.

This was the third time this week they’d set a date, just a small coffee date, and Race had been at least twenty minutes late to each of the last few. Not like Albert was punctual, but anyone who arrived after Albert? That was saying something.

Albert opened the case file in front of him, taking away the paper clip that held the pictures inside. He frowned, looking down at them for what seemed like the millionth time.

People like this really made him hate his job.

Spider-Man, the newest “hero” of New York, has recently caused a lot of property damage on a high end building in Midtown, and now the NYPD was starting to get more directly involved. Albert was one of the lead detectives on the case, and it had been extremely taxing lately. There was barely any information on the guy, except that he apparently talked a lot, a few cops recounting their strange encounters with the web-slinging creep.

He looked up from reading through the file for the fourth time as the door of the small café banged open, Race practically tumbling in.

Albert stared at him with furrowed brows until Race sat himself down across from him. “What happened this time?” Al sighed, sipping his espresso.

“Well, ok, so I was comin’ here, right,” Race starts off, and Albert could already feel the headache coming on, “right from work. And I notice this guy start followin’ me, which like, gotta get away from that right? So I take a longer route. Guy’s still there. So then I book it, okay, completely different direction, ‘n now I’m here. Sorry,” Race finally finished. His arms were crossed, Albert didn’t fail to notice, making Race come off as evasive and defensive.

He breathed in, eyes closed, and then out.

“Race, babe,” Al said, brows lowered with a frown. “You know I’m a detective, right?”

“Uh, yeah, Albie, of course I—“

“You know it’s part of my job to call bullshit?”

Race opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, slumping back against his seat. “I just...don’t wanna talk about it, alright?” Race said, voice quieter.

“Alright,” Albert relented. “We won’t.”

“Thanks, baby,” Race smiled, standing up to peck Albert’s cheek. “Lemme get my pumpkin spice latte. It’s Halloween after all!”

Albert rolled his eyes, watching Race go to order. He felt worry roll around in his stomach, tightening a bit into a ball of sharp anxiety. He looked down at the file with a defeated expression.

He hoped he was wrong.

He hoped Race wasn’t the reason he hated his job.

But there was only one way to find out.

•••

Albert supposed he was lucky it was Halloween. It fell right in line with his plan.

A stupid, ridiculous plan, but it was the most plausible he could think of.

The hardest part was going to be keeping Conlon in the dark, but that would come later.

First was the phone call.

Albert parked, walking an extra two blocks just in case. The moon hung bright in the sky, Albert having excused himself from Halloween night for a few hours, telling Race he had some extra work to finish up.

What a fucking lie.

And here came another one.

He glared at Race’s contact on his phone, stomach twisting in guilt before pressing call and raising the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Albie! Ya comin’ home early?” Race’s voice crackled over the other end. “I hope so, cause I got so much candy here—“

“R-Race,” Al interrupted, making his voice sound weak. He was afraid he’d break his act and falter if Race finished his sentence. “I-I got jumped. These guys, musta recognized me as a–“ Albert coughed away from the phone, then bit his lip before continuing with the lie. “–as a cop. They’re gonna come b-back, I can’t move–“

“Baby, oh my god,” Race breathed, and Albert almost sighed in relief that he had been cut short. Lying to Race practically caused him physical pain. “I-I’ll be there in a moment, where are you?”

“I think near the First Avenue subway, on...14th, Race, I don’t kn—“

“I’ll be there. Hold on, Albie, I swear—I’ll be right there. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The line went dead, and Albert lowered the phone shakily, leaning against a wall to breathe for a moment.

If Albert was right about Race, this was a perfect trap.

Albert had been on top of the Spider-Man’s activity since last year, and last Halloween it seemed like the guy had been more stressed out than usual—more activity and false alarms than normal, people in costumes doing stupid things.

Race would be more distracted, not thinking as clearly.

Albert had chosen a more discreet location, somewhere people weren’t often there. A small alley. The Spider-Man swung from above—Albert knew he’d be found.

And as much as it broke Albert’s heart to decit Race like that, it was a clear motivation. Race would come.

Albert raised his phone up again, having selected a different contact.

“Conlon. Track my phone, bring your stuff, don’t ask questions,” Al said when Spot picked up.

“Fuck you,” Albert heard Spot groan back.

“It’s about Spider-Man.”

“Fuck!” Albert almost laughed at the surprise in Spot’s yelp, taking the phone away from his ear as Spot hung up.

Everything was in place.

•••

Albert found himself pacing the alley, nerves starting to settle in. There was always a chance he could be wrong, and Race could get here after Spot, and see he was perfectly fine, and then Al would have to explain he thought Race was the fucking—

Al whipped around as a figure landed behind him.

It was him.

Oh, god was it him.

Albert could easily tell it was Race from this close up. The way the red and blue clad spider held himself, shifting from one foot to another, the slimness of his body, seemingly all angles.

Albert could also tell he was confused. Race, of course, expected Albert to be hurt in some way, which he wasn’t. Yet Race didn’t know that Albert knew his true identity, and therefore had to hide his hesitation.

The insect-like eyes on the mask went large for a small moment and then back to normal. “Hey, dude, didn’t mean to startle ya. Just patrolling the area, crazy night—“

“Cut it out,” Al sighed, the knot of guilt unraveling into a nauseous feeling as he watched the masked man falter. “The act, I mean. You can drop it.”

“Uh, I don’t think I follow? I..” the Spider-Man trailed off, the eyes larger again. Albert recognized the habit of Race’s voice going up when he was confused about something.

“Tony,” Albert managed. “I know. I know it’s you, Sunshine.”

A silence hung in the air for a few long seconds, and for a moment Albert thought he had been wrong about everything.

Then he watched as the Spider-Man shakily pulled off his mask after looking around warily. Messy blonde hair and watery blue eyes were revealed, Race wearing a defiant expression. “Albie, wait, don't arrest me, I can explain, please, just—“

“You don’t have to,” Albert whispered, surprising himself.

Race looked up, angry tears threatening to spill. “And what’s that even mean? You fucking hate the Spider-Man, you always have,” he said bitterly. Albert couldn’t help but wince a little.

“Well,” Albert started, hesitant. Conflict burned inside him, his obligation to the law clashing with his morals, the sound of their battle blaring in his ears. “Well, I called you, like, two minutes ago, and you’re already here. I called Spot only thirty seconds after and he’s an officer and he ain’t even here yet.” Albert scuffed his shoe into the ground, not meeting Race’s eyes.

He was embarrassed. Embarrassed for not trusting Spider-Man—Race, really—to be the good guy, and embarrassed for throwing the NYPD under the bus like that.

Albert looked up as Race took his hands. “I know how hard this is for you,” Race said quietly. “But, Albie, this is what I do. It’s who I am—who I’ve been.”

There was a fire in Race’s eyes that Albert had never seen before. Race wanted this. He believed in this. And standing in this dark alley with the moonlight gleaming in Race’s set expression, distant sounds of children screaming as Halloween continued far away from them, Albert couldn’t find it in himself to refute him.

“Alright,” he said shakily, “okay.”

Albert saw Race beam before he was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from the taller man.

“Thank you, Albie. I’m so sorry,” Race whispered, then kissed Albert’s temple lightly.

“No, I am. Shit,” Albert‘s eyes widened, pulling himself away from Race. “I called Spot as backup, in case I was wrong about you. Fuck.”

Race’s eyes widened too before he pulled his mask back on, pressing two fingers to his palm and shooting his famous webbing into the sky. “Albie, I gotta—“

“Aw, but wait, shit,” Albert smacked his forehead. “I told him I called him about you. About Spider-Man. God, I’m an idiot.”

“Baby, how are you a cop?” Race sighed, the eyes narrowing on the mask.

“Shut up and punch me,” Albert frowned.

“Yeah oka—wait, what?” Race sputtered, incredulous.

“I can say you got away from me, but I need evidence,” Albert explained. “Just do it.”

“Baby, no I couldn’t ever…”

“Race.” Albert deadpanned. “I lied to you about being hurt. On Halloween night. For the sole purpose of tricking you.”

“Oh yeah,” Race growled, and Albert watched nervously as the eyes on Race’s mask started narrowing. “Albert DaSilva, you fucking dick, ruining my favorite holiday.”

“Wait, wait Ra—“ Albert’s eyes widened as Race’s fist wound up, remembering in that moment about the Spider’s extra strength.

Too late. Race’s fist hit his head like a sharp brick, Albert’s eyes rolling back as he slipped into darkness.

•••

He waded back into consciousness a while later, cracking his eyes open and seeing a blurry Spot Conlon’s dark eyes on the road, finger’s drumming his steering wheel of his cop car. “You’re the second biggest idiot I know, DaSilva,” Spot grumbled.

“I feel like a fuckin’ building jus’, like, bitch-slapped me,” Albert slurred, not daring to move. Everything felt like it was ringing, banging in his head. The traffic lights looked blinding through his slow blinks.

“‘Cause one did. You’re definitely gonna have a concussion, pal, that damned Spider got ya bad. You musta pissed him off.” Spot scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Al smiled messily. “Yeah, I did piss ‘im off,” he giggled.

“I hate your stupid ass.”

“Happy Halloween, Conlon,” Al sighed happily, closing his eyes.

“Shut up.”

————

fun right? also albert's the dumbest cop in the city. at least that's what spot tells everyone he knows

tag list: @suddenly-im-respecsable @alberts-cigar @bencookisagod @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

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imfreefallinall · 5 years

Text

A Love Affair (Valet Shawn Imagine)

Hello everyone, Happy 2019!

This time, I am taking you back to the 1800s, when (and where) Queen Victoria ruler her kingdom like a badass. I am so in love with the tv series that I have decided to write an imagine inspired by it. English is not my first language, therefore writing like a kid in the 19th century was quite difficult, BUT I made my research and it turned out pretty well. Most of my characters existed in the past- well, Shawn didn’t of course.

I am back with a new imagine which could turn into a mini-series or it could have a spin-off. If you want this to happen, please remember that feedback is always appreciated!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

5,1k words

Love, B.

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London, March 1840.

(Jane’s POV)

“Lady Jane, niece of the Duchess of Buccleuch, Your Majesty.” I said, bowing in front of the Queen. My first day at Buckingham Palace.

“Duchess, Lady Jane, I am delighted by your presence at court. I believe I will enjoy your company very much. You have our permission to accommodate in your apartments, we will meet at 40 minutes after 14 hours for my daily walk in the park." Queen Victoria replied, smiling kindly at me while I lifted my head again, holding my hands tight together to make them stop shaking. I excused myself and exited the Throne Room with my old aunt, never turning my back to the Royal Family as Mama taught me when I was little. I followed my aunt into our apartments, mesmerized by the golden greatness of the palace and its hallways. Shining, crystal chandeliers hanging from the decorated ceilings, large paintings adorning the walls.

”You need to straighten your back while you bow, Jane.” the Duchess scolded, giving me a quite disappointed look.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I will practise as soon as my engagements will permit me to.” I answered, eyes looking at the floor. I hoped the Queen did not notice my lack of composure.

“Not today then. You heard Her Majesty, you better hurry and change your attire. We need to be ready to follow the Queen in all of her appointments when she requires our company. Do not forget to prepare your watercolours and your paint brushes. It is good use to gift Her Majesty with a painting to show her your abilities. God knows if she will find you useful.” she told me with her usual cold tone. I nodded in silence and excused myself, moving to the other room to change my dress and shoes into something more comfortable than the ceremony dress I wore to meet Her Majesty Queen Victoria and His Royal Highness Prince Albert. A little knock on the door caught my attention while I was selecting the best brushes of my collection. I opened the door slowly, ready to bow at whoever was in front of me.

“Jane, you must not open the doors by yourself. We have the guards for this reason.” the Duchess exclaimed from the nearest room. That old woman had eyes everywhere.

“I am sorry, ma’am. It will not happen again.” I confirmed, sighting a little before turning my head to the door. A handsome, tall man was standing uncomfortably in front of me. He was wearing simple, cotton clothes and his hair, although had been visibly brushed to give them some order, were messy on his head. He smiled kindly, plump limps adorning his face that had now turned bright, embarrassed red. He was carrying a golden tray, a letter laying on it.

“Correspondence for the Duchess of Buccleuch, ma’am.” he exclaimed, extending the tray in my direction. I admired his smile, flattering my eyelashes fast to come back to my senses once I realized I was staring too long.

“Thank you, I will consign it to her.” I smiled, taking the golden paper in my gloved hands. The boy bowed his head a little, retiring himself and walking down the hallway. I could have sworn he was muttering to himself.

“Give it to me, Jane! I am not too old to open a letter by myself.” the Duchess said, taking the envelope from my hands and sitting in her armchair.

“Go, do something, Jane. I am sure you will find something else to do instead of standing there, looking at me.” she added and I nodded, dismissing myself and walking out of our apartment.

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Buckingham Palace, Summer 1840.

“The Queen is pregnant, Jane, so you must practise your musical skills in order to delight her whenever she requests it. In her conditions, she will not have many engagements and you must amuse her during her period of rest.” the Duchess ordered and I assented, accepting for the thousandth time a new order.

“Yes, ma’am. I will be in the Green Room, exercising myself at the piano.” I bowed at her and walked down the stairs, losing myself in those infinities, golden hallways.

“It seems to me that you might be in need of help, My Lady.” a masculine voice said behind me. I turned and curtsey at the blonde, good-looking man dressed up in a classic English red and white uniform.

“Yes, Sir. I was searching for the Green Room to play the piano but I must have lost my path. “ I answered, intertwining my hands in front of me and straightening my back, the corset digging in the soft form of my hips and obliging me to stay rigid.

“I will be honoured to walk you to your destination. I believe I have not had the pleasure to make your acquaintance before. I am Lord Alfred Henry Paget.” he said, lifting his hat with his right hand while walking by my side.

“Lady Jane, niece of the Duchess of Buccleuch, My Lord.” I replied, reverencing again. If I was obliged to introduce myself once more in this way, I would be sickening straight away. Fortunately, we walked in silence down various hallways.

“I believe you are very talented in the matter of music. I would like to hear your favourite piece, Lady Jane.” he proclaimed entering the Green Room.

“It would be a pleasure to me, Lord Alfred.” I replied, sitting in front of the instrument with my handwritten score in front of my eyes. I played for what felt like hours, waiting for Lord Alfred to excuse himself in order to let me finish but he seemed too delighted to acknowledge my tiredness so I had to keep playing and playing until a knock on the open door gave me the perfect excuse to rest my hands.

“Please, do not stop playing, Lady Jane. Your music is nectar to my ears. “ the Lord said, requiring me to start again.

“Pardon Sir, I would never interrupt your activities but I have correspondence for you, Lord Alfred.” the same servant I met multiple times during my stay here spoke vehemently but politely. I turned slightly my gaze to look at him, my hands dancing expertly on the keyboard.

"You are my favourite page boy for a reason, Shawn. You can go now.” the Lord replied and I repressed a surprised smile. The boy, Shawn, curved his head down and exited the room.

"I would like you to sit with me, Lady Jane. I believe your hands feel heavy after such an impeccable performance.” added Lord Alfred after he read the letter, making me almost sighting in relief. I sit on the bench in front of his chair, hands in my lap.

"May I say that I have never heard a respectable man like you call a servant by his name, Lord Alfred.” I questioned politely, looking at the man sitting with the letter now opened in front of him.

"I recognise you are right, Lady Jane, it might result inappropriate but Shawn and I grew up in different parts of the same house. It was not unusual for my kid self to play with him. I believe he is as respectable as me when it comes to names and not noble titles, My Lady. " he answered calmly, making me smile a little.

"I find it very kind of the Queen to permit you to take your servants here at Palace. " I replied while he nodded.

"Being Chief Equerry and Clerk Marshal of the Queen has its privileges, beyond its duties, My Lady. In fact, I must excuse myself but I must go to solve some of my obligations. Hearing you play was a pleasure, I do hope I will be able to do it again soon.” he exclaimed, almost happily, while we both stood to greet each other.

"It was an honour, Lord Alfred.” I smiled politely, bowing after he kissed my right hand.

"If you happen to get lost again, please ask me or Shawn for help. I would never want you to miss your engagements because you could not find the right way, Lady Jane.” I giggled a little, nodding slowly.

"You have my word, Lord Alfred.” I agreed and he smiled one last time before wearing his hat on his head again and walking out of the small salon. He was a respectable man and a tempting marriage prospect, indeed, but he could not make my heart race in the same ways as his valet.

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Anglesey, Irish Sea, January 1839

(Shawn’s POV)

"Shawn, my reliable friend, I have a great tiding for you! I have been chosen to be the Queen’s Chief Equerry and Clerk Marshal. We are moving to Buckingham Palace, dear friend! Please, guarantee that all my essentials are packed before Saturday at 13 hours.” my master, Lord Alfred, ordered kindly. I nodded and bowed my head.

"I am pleasantly happy but not surprised for your achievement, Sir. I will personally pack your chest with all the things that are necessary.” I obeyed, making my way into the Master’s estate to prepare all the items of baggage.

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Buckingham Palace, March 1840.

"Everyone, listen! Today the new Ladies-in-waiting of the Queen will arrive. The Queen will host a luncheon and you will all be expected to greet them with their noble title or calling them Lady. Everyone will be needed today, so forget about your normal role because you will be demanded to do whatever will be necessary, including serving someone who isn’t your master. All clear? Now, go and do your work.” Mister Penge, the servants’ supervisor, explained with his usual harshness what were our daily tasks. Clearly, being Lord Alfred’s page did not exonerate me from normal tasks. Soon, I was asked to deliver envelopes all over the Palace, ending right in the wing reserved to the Queen’s Ladies. I knocked at the white and gold door, the Royal Guards looking at me dubiously. A young, beautiful girl opened the door, a smooth move like she was used to doing it every day. I doubted she was.

"Correspondence for the Duchess of Buccleuch, ma’am.” I spoke kindly, my cheeks immediately burning red because of her eyes scanning my clearly not noble attire. I took advantage of her distraction to admire the way her dress hugged her small frame perfectly. It was rather simple to be worn by a Lady like her: blue and long, without any particular pattern but pearled lace adorning her round, full chest and her slim waist. Then I looked at her round, natural rosy face: blue eyes shining, matching the Royal environment surrounding us, and blonde, curly hair framing her cheeks softly, leaving her pierced ears free to make those big, celestial blue earrings reflect the pale light of the sun.

"Thank you, I will consign it to her.” she smiled, locking my eyes with hers while her delicate hands, covered with matching blue gloves, took the letter from the tray. I nodded, bowed and made my way back into the servant’s floor, scolding myself for being too insolent while looking at her. She is a Lady and, therefore, not someone made for me.

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Buckingham Palace, November 1840.

"Shawn, please, deliver this letter to Lady Jane. I believe I saw her walking in the garden after she left Her Majesty’s apartments. I am surprised her aunt, the Duchess, left her alone so please, hurry. I would really like to meet her soon. I give you custody of this letter.” Lord Alfred issued me with this duty and I nodded immediately, placing the letter on the golden tray and walking out of the Palace. The air was cold but fresh, the sky was promising white snow. I walked for a few minutes before finding Lady Jane sitting on a marble bench, her wooden easel in front of her and two palettes of watercolours placed on the table at her right. A thin brush placed in her left hand, lifted in the air and moving suavely to imitate the forms of the white flowers blossomed in the garden in front of her.

"I am sorry to interfere in your activities, ma’am, but I have a letter for you from Lord Alfred.” I announced, moving to be in her sight. She started a little on her seat, brush falling from her hold. I knelt to the ground, taking the tool in my bigger hands and offering it to her with the letter.

"Thank you, you can put the letter on the table.” she answered weakly, her usual warm smile long forgotten. I assented, placing the envelope far from the big cup full of coloured water to preserve it from being soaked. I bowed and started to walk away, before turning again.

"I would not want to sound unkind, but I believe it is getting cold outside and your dress does not seem warm enough.” I said hesitantly.

"I believe you are right, indeed, but going in my apartments would mean meet my aunt and I would rather not right now. Thank you for your carefulness.” she replied, smiling faintly. I nodded again and bowed, starting to walk away once more. I could not leave her like that, though. I might not own a title but I am a gentleman, still. I turned again.

"I am afraid I have no right to offer this but, since I have no right to enter your apartments, ma’am, I could take you my coat to fight the cold? Or I could ask Lord Alfred and take you one of his warmer coats, I am sure it would be much more appropriate.” I spoke again and this time she turned to face me.

"I would like to be left alone, please, so do not call Lord Alfred.” she answered, turning back to draw a harsh line on her canvas. I sighted, ready to recite my excuses, but she interrupted me.

"I would also like to wear your coat, please. I do not want to pass a cold to our very pregnant Queen.” she added and I smiled, relieved, running in my dormitory and going back to her. I placed my only coat, one gifted to me by my old father before my departure to Buckingham Palace, on her small shoulders. She smiled, placing her hands on mine to adjust the cloth.

"Thank you so much. Would you mind moving those flowers for me? " she asked kindly, almost giving me the chance to say no.

"Yes, ma’am. Guide me.” I replied, making my way to the small flowerbed. I started to move the flowers as her wish, making myself comfortable between them.

"This is perfect, please, hold them in this way for a little bit longer.” she commanded, sounding more like a girl and less like a lady. Sitting there, in the humid grass, I wondered how old was her, if she was happy about being at court or if she was happy in general. On any other day, if someone asked me, I would have said that she was, indeed, happy. But that day, maybe for the usual, grey sky of London, or maybe for the way a lock of her hair fell from her unkempt hairstyle, I would have answered that being a Lady was an attire too tight for her to wear.

"Please, Shawn, talk to me. Some company would make me work faster.” she spoke, her face hidden by the canvas she was working on.

"I am 22 years old and I grew up in Lord Alfred’s dad’s estate. My mother was a seamstress and my dad a squire but I was raised to be everything Lord Alfred wanted me to be: a friend, a rival in a fencing match or a musician. I am grateful because I got the chance to listen to Lord Alfred repeat his lectures or exercise his skills and, in this way, I learnt to write, to read and some science and astronomy too. Being able to read gave me the opportunity to admire the world’s greatest poems like the Odyssey or Shakespeare’s plays. Personally, my favourite is Macbeth, not only for the history it tells but mostly because of the teaching it shares with us: always choose honesty before power. And I do follow this example even if, in my opinion, a man who lived in the 17th century could have been more kind to the poor, crazy Lady Macbeth. I also like music, in fact, I can play the piano and some instruments with strings. I really enjoy looking at paintings and I know many famous artists but, unfortunately, my hands are not as delicate as yours: I would make a horrible painting if my hands were allowed to touch, even lightly, a brush.” I spoke, hearing her soft giggles coming from the seat she was sat on.

"Such a curious man you are. Please, come here. I would really like your opinion on my painting.” she said, placing the brush in the cup and standing up. I walked forward, brushing my hands on my trousers to take off the humid terrain. I stood behind her, my big frame hovering over her, allowing me to see her canvas. It represented the garden, with those white flowers that lasted all winter and that she seemed to love. The harsh line she angrily painted before was now moulded to resemble a cloud in the sky. I then recognize my figure, almost laid in that carpet of flowers that looked like snow. She did not paint my face, just some light strokes to resemble my lips, nose, eyes and eyebrows.

"Wow...this is...not what I expected, to be honest, but it is a real masterpiece. I believe your hand has a magic touch on this canvas.” I congratulated her, still mesmerized by her talent.

"I hope you do not mind, Shawn, but everything seemed too grey and sad before you came here with your charming, warm smile. I thought I needed to bring the same warmness into my painting, in order to balance the cloudy sky I see every day from this golden prison.” she answered, turning to look at me. I lowered my chin a bit, our eyes intertwined once more while I admired the smile that was gracing on her fine lips.

"I am honoured, Lady Jane.” I said, looking back to the painting. She was too beautiful.

"Just Jane for you, I beg." she whispered, surprising me with her request. I smiled and nodded, looking back at her and allowing myself to get lost in her beauty once more.

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(Jane’s POV)

"Her Majesty, The Queen of England and His Royal Highness Prince Albert are delighted to announce the Servants’ Christmas Ball in honour of the newborn Princess Victoria. It will take place this Saturday, the 23rd of December in the basement. " The servants’ supervisor announced. A small smile appeared on my face, my gaze running around the Throne Room and laying on Shawn’s excited face. Our meetings became more frequent: it could be in the gardens, when he delivered letters and spent more time than necessary by my side as I tried to teach him the French technique to use watercolours, or I could play the piano for hours, waiting for him to casually walk by and play with me, hoping no one saw us. We smiled for a few seconds at each other, then I turned to look at the Queen, sat on the throne, happiness and relief surrounding her. She was made for being a Queen. The pregnancy had made her uncomfortable and she felt useless; now she was ready to reign over her kingdom again and what better than a ball to celebrate? She loved balls. I loved balls too.

Returned to our apartments, I dismissed myself from the Duchess and I sat at the small glass table, brush in my hand as I started to draw the dress I would have loved to wear at the party. I was expected to wear the dress the Duchess would have found more suitable for me, but I would have loved to wear a rather simple dress, without all of the elaborated patterns and diamonds. Maybe a plain green dress with a little fine lace on the hem and my favourite pin, the last gift my mom left for me: a pin with an emerald and some small pearls. I hope Shawn would have liked me better in a simple dress. Maybe, if I asked nicely, I could have gotten the dressed I was more pleased to wear.

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(Shawn’s POV)

"Shawn, I believe your ceremony suit does not fit you well enough to be seen by Her Majesty. So I asked my tailor to create a new costume for you, I believe we have the same size. And certainly, I would never want people to deem I do not treat my servants, once in a while.” Lord Alfred declared, handing me the suit.

"Thank you, Sir. I am very grateful for this.” I replied, taking the soft cloth in my hands. I hoped Jane would have found me classy enough to share a dance with me.

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Buckingham Palace, the 23rd of December.

I was thrilled. The basement was decorated with green plants and good perfumes, a small Christmas tree in the corner with small candles to lit it up. I shaved and cleaned as much as I could, trying to be the best version I could be to deserve the company of Jane. I wore the suit, which probably cost as much as three years of my salary, and I was surprised it fitted so good on me. I looked almost...noble.

20 minutes after 19 hours, the trumpets started to play and we all lined up to greet the Queen. She was absolutely gorgeous, indeed, but the woman walking three steps behind her was breathtaking. Jane was wearing a long, green velvet dress, tight around her chest and loose around her hips. A small pin in the middle of the neckline and her hair tied up in a low bun made of a braid, the same white flowers she loved perfectly arranged between her locks.

"Maestro, please.” the Queen said, motioning to the small orchestra. The Head Master took her in his arms as they lead the dance, servants and noble joining them soon after. I walked slowly to the other side of the small living room, standing beside Lord Alfred and Lady Jane.

"Lady Jane, may I have this dance?” Lord Alfred said after a while, offering his hand to the lovely woman near him. She seemed uncomfortable, the Duchess her aunt whispering in her ear, clearly trying to convince her to accept. She was almost nodding, lifting her hand to lay it in my master’s.

"I believe, Sir, this ball is meant to intertwine servants and nobles. It would not be a good image if two nobles danced with each other. I am sure Miss Skerret would be pleased to dance with you, Lord Alfred.” Mister Penge exclaimed, showing my friend Nancy to my master. He nodded, not pleased but not angry, taking Miss Skerret’s hand and going into the dance floor. Mister Penge looked at me slightly, nodding a little in Jane’s direction and walking away to dance with the Queen. I smiled, turning to face Jane.

"Lady Jane, may I lead you to the dance floor?" I asked kindly, stretching my hand for her to take it.

"I would be honoured.” she smiled, placing her soft hand in mine with no hesitation. I squeezed it softly, leading her where the others were dancing and we started waving together, her hand on my shoulder and mine leaned delicately on the upper part of her back.

"I have reason to believe your aunt was not delighted by this ball, My Lady.” I spoke softly, looking at her shining blue eyes. She giggled, hand holding mine a little bit tighter.

"I am sure you are not mistaken, she has not stopped showing her disappointment since the ball was announced. I find it almost disrespectful, it is something the Queen really looked forward too.” She reasoned, her feet guiding mine during the Walzer we were dancing to.

"Was she? I hope she was not the only one.” I replied, distancing myself from her warm body just enough to let her twirl a few seconds, welcoming her back in my arms soon after.

"Indeed, she was not. The whole court is reunited here, tonight. I find this amusing and a good event to lighten everyone’s state of mind.” She laughed, twirling again and ending closer to my chest. We danced for a few minutes, switching partners for the next five dances before I had the chance to address her again.

"Would it be inappropriate if I admitted I missed all of you?” I whispered softly, my hand moving slightly on her back. I knew the corset was probably hurting her, her shoulders tensed and her movements not as smooth as when we danced once, in the dark of the night.

"It would not if I admitted I missed all of you too, certainly.” She smiled, her eyes looking lovely in the Christmas light.

"I wish we could be closer, just like we were when you were getting my horse ready.” She added, her face getting close to my shoulder. I sighed, memories of the time we passed as normal young persons full-filling my head.

"I wish, indeed, but I am afraid this will be the closest we will get to be tonight.” I replied, my fingers intertwined with her in a desperate attempt to satisfy the need of caress her cheek.

"Maybe I could forget my gloves on the wooden chair I see in the corner, and you would be expected to bring them to me.” Jane suggested, her warm breath caressing my neck, making me shiver.

"It would be a shame, ma’am, if you did not have the chance to wear this morbid gloves again.” I agreed, my thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin in the middle of her shoulder blades. We stayed silent for the rest of the night, gifting each other with hidden smiles. When the Queen retired, her Ladies-In-Waiting and the rest of the nobles followed her. I stayed with my equals, cleaning until I noticed her small, light green gloves methodically placed on the chair’s seatback. I put them in the pocket of my jacket, breaking a smile as the perfume of my beloved Jane filled my senses. As I finished my duties, I climbed the stairs and patiently wait for Jane to arrive. When she did, she was wearing a dark coat on her nightgown. Her hair was no longer organized in a complicated way, only a simple hair comb to keep it from falling on her face.

"I am sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I am afraid you may have forgotten your gloves downstairs, after the ball." I played my role, her small hand wrapping around my wrist and guiding me to a darker hallway.

“Thank you, Shawn. I would have not know what to do with myself if I did not get them back." She whispered, her hands brushing against mine to collect the gloves and placing them in her pocket.

"May I have the pleasure? One more dance with you.” I smiled, my arms embracing her tenderly.

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(Jane’s POV)

How could I resist his loving smile? I knew the Duchess was probably waiting for me, but forgetting for a few minutes of who I was and what I was supposed to do sounded too sweet to refuse. I placed my head in the crook of his neck, his warmness feeling familiar.

"You looked..exquisite tonight. But would you mind if I...?” he whispered, his hand coming up and wrapping around my hair comb, extracting it slowly to let my hair fall freely on my shoulders and neck.

"I love seeing you..unbounded. Less like a Lady, more like a beautiful, young woman.” Shawn explained, his fingers brushing sweetly against my cheekbone, moving my messy hair to reveal more naked skin. I smiled shyly as he started to hum a slow harmony, his head lowering to caress my neck and my cheekbones with the soft curve of his rosy lips. I closed my eyes, his fingers moving more hair behind my ears, his kisses coming to my cheek. I opened my eyes again, uncertain if I would enjoy more this moment blind or not, only to find his brown eyes already staring at me with a glimpse of hope and tenderness.

"My beloved Jane...I wish I could be the man for you, and we both know I am not. But for tonight, I want to forget and just be a boy in love with a girl.” he whispered, his breath warm on me. I smiled in disbelief.

“You love me?” I questioned, my hand lifting to twist the lonely curl who fell on his forehead around my small finger. He took my free, and for once naked, hand in his, kneeling to the ground and kissing it in a slightly way.

“How could I not, my angel? Your skin is like silk under my callous finger, giving them rest after a rough day. Your eyes are always so full of admiration when I speak about music and art, even if I am just a valet. Your hair, blonde as the grain of August and perfumed like the flowers you adore. And your lips, my love...” he said, standing back on his feet and taking my face in his hands “...your lips look just like my deepest desire, the one I try to hold back so fiercely.” he murmured, his nose stroking lovely against mine.

“Please, my dear...do not hold it back. You are my only wish.” I replied. He smiled brightly at my words, nodding before pressing his lips on mine. A slow, uncertain kiss at first and a passionate embrace then, his arms closing around me and mine tugging kindly at the hair at the base of his neck. The humid sound of our lips parting and reconnecting was the only one filling the air as his tongue tapped gently against my lower lip, begging to meet mine and to capture it in a dance as sweet as the one who concerned us before. As we parted one last time, the midnight bells ringing in distance, he pressed a kiss on my forehead guiding my hands to rest over his strong chest to feel the fast beat of his heart.

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writing-makes-me-antsy · 5 years

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Totally Platonic Family Dinner (Finch/Reader) Part 2

042552/totally-platonic-family-dinner-finchreader-part

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626086

(Let me know if you want me to add you to a tag list!)

The family dinner went absolutely wonderful. Within moments Finch had warmed up to your family, and they absolutely adored him. Of course they would, who wouldn’t love Finch? Knowing his allergies, you had made sure there was plenty he could eat-even for dessert! There was more than enough room for you to have personal space, but instead, you and Finch had sat rather close together, your knees bumping against each other every few moments.

At one point during dinner, near the end, you had found yourself lost in a hazy fog. You felt the gentle tug of sleep, and with it a creeping feeling of sentimentality. The past year had been so rough, and the previous November had been so bad that you couldn’t even remember Thanksgiving. The fact that you were able to be here, now, surrounded by people you loved so much… It was wonderful. Each little moment of this was so, so wonderful. You turned to look at finch and drank in his features. You loved his distinctive sharp jaw, his cheekbones that were always prominent from smiling when around you, and, god help you, his lips. You didn’t let yourself think on that train of thought for too long, but allowed yourself to openly stare at him, entirely grateful to have this man as your friend.

“What’s up?” Finch looked at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m just so happy I know you.” Your words were soft and genuine.

“Um-er… I’m not that great.” He began fidgeting with his napkin, the closest thing at hand.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, “Yeah you are.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he replied in kind.

You turned back to your mashed potatoes and began shoveling them in your mouth, like the elegant princess you are. When you glanced up again, potatoes slightly smeared around your mouth, your cheeks filled to the brim, you were met with a lovely sight. You heart skipped a beat when you found Finch staring at you with the weirdest expression. He had a soft smile that was nearly a smirk, the happiness meeting his eyes. As soon as he saw that you had noticed him, he glanced away again.

“What’s the story behind that?” He asked you, pointing at a nearby painting. It was of a squirrel riding a unicycle, the art surprisingly realistic.

You shrugged. “I saw it at goodwill and I liked it, so we hung it up.”

“Wow, you really do have such great taste in interior design.”

“Hush it.” You lightly nudged him, and he nudged you back.

“Make me.” He said, and damn, you wished it worked like the movies where now is would be the time where you two would passionately make out. But this wasn’t a movie, and your family was literally three feet away, so it wouldn’t be the classiest choice. So, instead, you concocted a plan.

“I’ll go get dessert,” you announced to the group. Pushing out your chair, you made your way over to the kitchen. On the counter were the brownies you made that catered to Finch’s weird food choices, as well as a normal pumpkin pie for everyone else. First, you carried the pie out for everyone and laid it down on the table, refusing to look at Finch the whole time. Then, you delivered the brownies. While setting them on the table, you maintained eye contact with Finch, who seemed to be nearly watering at the mouth. This boy really liked his chocolate. Before he could take one, you pushed them away, but kept one hand hovered over it.

“So what was that about my interior design skills?” You smirked.

“You know bribes don’t work on me, right?” He leaned back in his chair, resisting your interrogation. But you knew you would have him soon enough. He wasn’t even looking at you half the time, he kept glancing back over to the delicious gooey squares you had made for him.

“Oh, I know.” You said, lightly picking up a brownie, looking as if you were going to eat it.

“I won’t change my mind, your-mmmf!” Halfway though his sentence, you shoved the brownie into his mouth, grinning mischievously at your victory.

“Now you’ve been hushed.” You were still smiling as he reluctantly ate the rest of the brownie that was crumbling apart in your hand. You hoped you weren’t blushing from the sensation of his lips against your skin. Now wasn’t the appropriate time for that. It would never be. Still, it wouldn’t hurt if… “Do you like it?” You asked hopefully.

“Yeah of course, they’re great.” He reached over and snagged a few more.

“I’m glad, I actually made those for you.” You admitted.

“You did?” He looked at you in shock. Really, you would think you’d shown him nothing but hatred with how often he looked at you like that. Why was he always surprised by this? He really needed more self esteem.

“Of course. I told you I wanted today to be perfect, remember?”

“Thank you. Maybe that squirrel doesn’t look half bad after all.”

“Oh hush.”

“Gladly,” He wiggled his eyebrows, “if it means I can have more brownies.”

“You say that as you already have three in your hands.”

“Yeah but,” He whined, “It’s not the same without you.”

You ignored the rush of adrenaline you felt at his words. “But if I’m feeding you, then I won’t be able to eat any.” You crossed your arms.

He leaned in slightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to return the favor.”

“Not happen-” Damn him, he just stole your move. His hand was so soft and gentle, his thumb and index finger slightly pressing into your cheeks to force the square in. You did what you had to do and took it from him, your heart pounding in your chest. Chewing, you had to admit you hadn’t done half bad this time. That made sense, considering you had been making test batches for weeks. Thankfully, Race and Albert hadn’t seemed to mind being guinea pigs.

“I hate you.” You pouted. He just stared at you intently, scrunching his entire face up. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for the truth.” He said simply before continuing his search.

“The truth?” You said, and couldn’t help but break out into a small smile, you could never keep a straight face around him.

“There it is!” He pointed at your smile. “You’ve never been very good at lying.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This boy. “I will never understand you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He grinned.

In any case, you were glad he seemed to be enjoying himself thus far. You could check dinner off your checklist! Now it was time for the fun part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Goodbye! Have fun!” You called out, waving to the rest of your family, who were all heading out for a round of drinks. Being just slightly underage for drinking, you and Finch had to be left home. That was perfectly fine with you. Spending time alone with Finch was nothing new for you, the two of you were constantly joint at the hip wherever you went. It was to the point that once, much to your embarrassment, Albert had once asked whether you were siblings. That had been a rather awkward moment. You had immediately shouted your denial, so loud it must have been suspicious as hell. Wisely, neither of you had ever brought it up again.

Turning to look at Finch, a devilish grin spread across your face. “Now for the best part of the evening!”

“Oh? Is there something better than food?”

“Mmm you’ll see!” You lightly gripped his hand for just a second to signal for him to follow you.

Running to your kitchen, you slid across the floor in your socks, landing at a sudden stop by the counter. You rummaged through the cabinet, looking for your prize. “Who says only adults can have fun?” You turned around with a smirk, lifting the bottle in your hand for Finch to see.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

You laughed and moved you hand off the label. “It’s non alcoholic apple cider. I’m not trying to get you wasted-yet.” You winked at him.

He placed his hand on his chest, “I’m scandalized. I can’t believe you would ever imply that a holy child such as yours truly would even think of drinking.”

You lightly flicked him before turning to look for mugs. “I haven’t forgotten that time you called me crying with Elmer and Race. There’s no way the three of you weren’t drunk.”

His face flushed with embarrassment. ‘We don’t speak of that night.”

“That doesn’t erase it from my memory” You teased him, finally finding two cups you liked. You couldn’t help but grin when you set your chosen pair on the table, which read “Fuck it”, and “I’m it”. Very mature.

When Finch read them, he let out a bark of laughter. “How did I not know you owned these?”

“Because I was saving them for a special occasion?” You fiddled with the bottle, taking an embarrassing amount of time to open it. Finally, you managed it and poured the contents out. The scent pleasantly wafted up to you, crisp and sweet. You took both the mugs and tossed them in the microwave for minute to warm them up.

“Ah yes, sweet radiation.” Finch was now sitting on one of your counters, a habit you had picked up from him as well.

“As if it’s enough to turn you away from anything edible.”

“Touche. So, what’s the plan?”

“Call it cliche, but we’re gonna watch the greatest movie of all time.”

“And that would be?”

“Mean Girls, of course!” Finch rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. A few months back you had convinced him and the rest of the newsies and Katherine to watch it, and had only slightly regretted it once they had begun to quote it constantly.

“Hey-the timer just went off. I guess you should go fetch our drinks.” He was already laughing at his joke, and despite how bad the pun was, you joined in with him.

You handed his drink over to him and clutched your own in your hands, savoring the warmth. Both of you had perpetually freezing hands, so every little bit of heat was relished. Together, the two of you made your way into your bedroom, which was simple but cozy. Your bed was just big enough to fit the both of you, and on a dresser facing it was your TV, which had access to Netflix. You handed your cup over to Finch to hold as you set everything up, drawing closed the blinds and dimming the lights.

Finally, you crawled up next to him and got settled in. You were sitting next to each other, but awkwardly kept from touching. You still didn’t know what his boundaries were with physical interaction and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Whatever his reason for shying away from you as well, you didn’t know. Still, the two of you pulled up blankets together and gingerly sipped from your mugs. Well, at least you did. He gulped half of his down in a few quick seconds, only to screw up his face at the potent taste. You couldn’t help but giggle at his display.

When the movie started, the two of you easily slipped into your usual banter, only half paying attention.

“Okay hear me out, right.” Finch started with the cursed words.

“What’ll it be this time?” You braced yourself for whatever strange proclamation was coming.

“So you know how it’s really cold right?”

“Yeah?” You couldn’t see where this was going.

“And we’re watching Netflix?” His fingers were drumming against his cup. (He had the “I’m it” mug, of course).

“And?”

“Does this mean this is, Netflix and Chill?” He asked, a dorky grin splitting his face.

You cackled with laughter. “You are the worst.” You kept yourself from adding on, “And I love you.”

“I live to please.” He lightly bumped his shoulder against yours.

You continued back and forth for ages, just joke upon joke, sometimes at the expense of the characters. Some highlights included bickering over whether Janice’s hair was cute or not, about which newsies mirrored which characters, (Crutchie was a complete Cady, a wholesome bean), and whether it was indeed a better approach to conflict to just tackle someone. At one point, after a particularly funny joke, you found yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As soon as you realized what you were doing, you sat up again, quickly apologizing.

“You’re good.” He said, looking at you confused.

“I shouldn’t have done it without asking.” You explained. He just laughed at you before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Is this good?” He asked, and though it was dim, you could’ve sworn his face turned a little redder. It was probably your imagination though.

“Yeah, of course.” You said, and let him pull you closer into him. Your attention completely slipped away from the movie, and all you could think of was how comfy this moment was. He was layered in like eight hoodies, the cold boy he was, so he was such a soft squishy mess, warm up against you. A graceful smile was stretched across your face, a similar peaceful one on his. The two of you quieted slightly and turned your attention towards the movie-at least he seemed to. You barely paid attention to what was going on, instead drinking in this moment. Every once in a while you would glance over to him, admiring all the little details that marked his face as his own.

You could happily stay like this forever. That wasn’t really how it worked out though, because even in this moment, Finch couldn’t stay still for long. He kept shuffling his legs, in turn moving you around with him too. You didn’t mind too much though. You loved everything that made him, him, including how fidgety he always was. Yes, this moment really was wonderful.

#Finch/reader #Finch headcanons #Newsies #Newsies Finch #newsies fanfiction #Newsies/reader #My writing #Musicals #Disney's newsies #Finch x reader #Reader insert #Newsies headcanons

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jackscrutchie · 7 years

Note

jackcrutchie prompt: something along the lines of "you confessed your love to me while drunk but you dont remember doing that" idk

I played a little and rambled a little and got carried away but I hope this is okay?? Sorry I can’t write.

Crutchie is sick so he goes to the penthouse early but is then surprised by how insanely drunk Jack is when he comes home later that night.

Crutchie doesn’t drink. He’d just never had an interest in it. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy watching his friends have drinks when they could. He was the one who always took care of them. Made sure they got to their beds and tucked in. He made sure they had water and blankets and bits of food. It helped him feel needed – Like he had purpose. He got his laughs when Race stumbled over his words and couldn’t find his hat. ( It was on his head the whole time. ) He got to comfort Specs when he cried about his unrequited crush on the girl from the flower shop. He didn’t even mind when he had to help Albert change out of his vomit soiled shirt.

The only person that never really needed help at one point or another was Jack. Crutchie even had to help Davey once after some of the boys convinced him to have a few. But despite the alcohol running through his veins, Jack always managed to keep himself composed. Sure, he flirted a little more… Intensely than usual. But that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Jack had always been a flirt. He’d heard Jack talk on more than one occasion about ending up in bed with a girl after an oddly short amount of time just talking to her… But he tried not to think about that stuff. He wasn’t a jealous person… Right? No matter, Jack held his liquor well which impressed everyone. That’s why it was so strange when it happened.

Crutchie was alone the night it happened. He hadn’t been feeling well, so instead of staying out with the boys, he headed back to the penthouse early. He’d been dozing off, his stomach in knots, his leg aching – All he wanted was sleep but… A rattle. Someone was coming up. A clang and a familiar laugh. Jack’s face came into view, blushed and a bit… Obscene. He’d really let himself go this time.

“Jack?” Crutchie sat up despite his leg cramping up in the process. “You… Are you okay?”

“Wha’? Yeah, a'course I’m okay, ’re you okay?” Jack’s words were slurred and he swayed when he finally made it to the top of the latter to step onto the rooftop. “Why wouldn'I be okay?” He laughed and reached up to pull his hat off his head. He was sweating.

“What’d you do, Jack?” Crutchie smiled a bit, shaking his head. He’d never seen Jack this way. He was always so cool. So collected and suave. “Why don’t ya lay down, huh?”

“Yeah, ya know… Ya know, Crutchie…” He started, his brow furrowed. Oh God, was he about to throw up? Crutchie didn’t think he could keep his own dinner down if he threw up… “I told ‘em. R - Race he said dat… He said he could out drink me and he… He didn’. I won, Crutch. Ain’t it nice?” He stumbled forward, making his way slowly towards the smaller boy.

“Hey, hey… Come on, Jack.” Crutchie didn’t want to stand… Wasn’t entirely sure he could at this point but… He reached his arms out, hoping to coax Jack over to him. “Ya gotta come lay down before –” Jack fell forward, hitting the ground hard, the skin on his arms and hands breaking as he hit the cold rooftop. “Jack!” Crutchie was on his feet as fast as he could, his leg screaming in protest. His stomach churning. He limped the few steps to Jack and knelt down next to him, tears stinging his eyes as the pain from his leg shot up and down his entire body. “Jack?”

A laugh. Jack was laughing. Loud and joyous and beautiful. “See, I – I’m okay! I could'a had ten more drinks!” He rolled onto his side, still laughing, to face Crutchie’s kneeling frame. “Ya gotta have little… A little faith in me, yeah?”

Crutchie’s face was twisted in pain and concern. He hit the ground pretty hard… But he seemed to be okay. “I got plenty of faith in ya, Jack but… Be more careful.”

Jack sat up, swaying a bit. “Hey you… You don’t worry your pretty li'l face ‘bout me…” He smiled, the smell of alcohol so strong on his breath it made Crutchie wrinkle his nose. “God, Crutch. Yous so damned cute… Ya know?” Jack reached a shaky hand out to gently touch Crutchie’s face, a blush rushing to his freckled cheeks.

“Jack… Come on.” He smiled, obviously flustered at the tenderness. He heart was racing, his throat was dry and his stomach was still in knots. “You… You need to get some sleep. You’re talkin’ crazy!” He reached up with his own hand to touch Jack’s. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t give it away that he… He swallowed hard. He’d been in love with Jack for so long but this didn’t mean anything. This was just Jack being Jack. Jack being very… Very drunk.

“No, I gotta… Crutchie. C - Charlie. Listen.” Jack’s tone suddenly dropped, trying to sound serious despite the slur in his words. “I gotta tell ya… Ya know you… Yous is so sweet.” He pressed his palm against Crutchie’s cheek, keeping his eye contact. “Yous… Yous is so so… Just yous… So bright like… A sun. Crutchie yous is my… My sunshine.” He nodded, his lips pursed, serious. “I ain’t got nothin’ without ya. Yous is my… My Crutchie. My Charlie. And yous is my sunshine, you know that?”

Crutchie felt his heart beating faster and faster every time Jack opened his mouth. He’d called him by name… That never happened. What was going on? He had to remember this meant nothing. Nothing he was saying was true. He was just drunk. “That…” He looked down, subconsciously leaning more into Jack’s touch. “That’s nice'a you to say.”

“I mean it. Ya know, I really do. Yous is my life, Charlie.” He nodded again, his eyelids obviously getting heavier by the minute. “An’ if I – Yous gotta know I really like ya. I think dat you… Yous is special and Charlie…” He paused, leaning forward to press his forehead against the smaller boys warm one. “I love ya… Yeah. I love ya a lot Crutchie. An’ an’ don’t… I love ya more… More than San'a Fe! How ‘bout dat! I love ya!” Jack’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, but he wore the brightest smile –

Crutchie’s heart stopped. He had to remember how to breathe. What was he supposed to say to that? Of course he loved him back but this wasn’t… This wasn’t actually happening. Jack was so far gone he had no idea what he was saying. If his stomach wasn’t upset before… “Jack I –” But he was already tilting to the side, falling asleep sitting up. “Jack – !” Crutchie grabbed for him, a jolt of pain going down his spine as he slowed Jack’s descent to rest him gently on the ground. Sweat was beading on Crutchie’s brow and he sighed, straining to reach the small ratty blanket closest to them to cover Jack.

His entire body ached, his stomach still threatened to empty itself, but somehow his heart was singing. For just a moment he could pretend that… He smiled, and closed his eyes, tilting his head back and up into the moonlight. It felt nice, pretending to be loved like that…

—

The next morning, Crutchie stirred at the sound of rustling next to him. His condition hadn’t improved by much, but he opened his tired eyes to see Jack digging around in his sketches for clean paper. “Jack..?” His voice came out weak and hoarse. Hm… Maybe he should skip selling today…

“Oh, h - hey… Crutchie.” He smiled, wincing a bit.

“You… You doin’ okay?” Crutchie didn’t even try to sit up. But remembering the words Jack had said to him brought red back to his face. “You uh… We’re pretty…” He forced a laugh, trying not to be sick. He had to prepare himself for the inevitable. Jack would tell him that he loved him. But he would make sure he knew that he only loved him like a brother. They would never be anything other than that. His heart picked up it’s pace.

“Hah, yeah…” Jack shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “I uh – I’m sorry if I did anything… Ahah.” He looked away, clearly embarrassed.

This was it. Crutchie braced himself, closed his eyes and – “What do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is…” Jack stopped to think, biting his lip. “Leaving the party.”

Inhale. “You don’t remember gettin’ back to the penthouse?”

Jack grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “No – Not at all. It’s all… Gone after I left the party… Guess I fell at one point?” He tilted his head down toward his skinned up arms.

“Yeah… You uh…” He curled in on himself. “You ain’t forgettin’ anything else, anyway. Just… Got back here, told me ya drank more than Race, fell and passed out… Hah…” He was rambling. “So… Nothin’ to worry about.” Now that he was sure Jack didn’t remember, he let his guard down a bit, his sickness overwhelming him.

“I guess… That’s good then.” Jack cocked his head to the side, hunching forward, trying to focus on this small boy. Jack felt his own heart flutter. “You… You alright?”

No. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just… Ya know… I ain’t feelin’ real good.” He gave a weak smile, trying to reassure his friend.

Jack walked forward to kneel next to Crutchie’s withered frame and rested his hand against the sick boy’s sweat dampened forehead. “You’re sick.” He sighed. “And don’t say a word. I’m takin’ care'a you today.” Jack was stern, but gentle. “Don'tchu move a muscle.” He held Crutchie’s gaze for a long moment before dropping his hand from his forehead, letting it linger against Crutchie’s cheek for a sweet minute, rubbing comforting circles into his warm skin. “I need my sunshine.”

#jackcrutchie #newsies #jack kelly #crutchie #newsies fanfiction #hiccup writes

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moth-based-cryptology · 3 years

Note

sometimes when al just isn’t feeling great he turns the camera off and everyone is just super reassuring like we love you!! you’re gorgeous!!! come back when ur ready ofc but take all the time you need!!!

race playing with his hair in an affectionate manner too and just being like hey babe guess what? i love you :) or just casually complimenting his appearance because a) al is gorgeous, race is being genuine and b) he understands that al isn’t compliment fishing, and totally gets his insecurities and will always do what he can to show his boy how much he’s loved and c) he loves him

al doing the exact same thing just off camera bc he’s a bit more shy about it being on camera? not ashamed never ashamed he loves race unabashedly and he’s damn proud of it it’s just little private moments for him. just. lying down with him. i love you i appreciate you thank you for always being here m’ always gonna be here for you too god i love you

race bursting into the gaming room wearing a flower crown and hes like babe i made you a flower crown!!! and al just drops his console n takes off the headset and goes to race and just. kisses him. and it’s so cute and race is like hey hi babe flower crown you’re gonna crush it and i worked hard on it! and the rest of the stream they’re wearing matching flower crowns

race being like babe wait! come over here instead the angle is better your accuracy will be a lot more precise bc this way the hills and height both factor as major advantages for you since you’re out of the other’s peripheral or scope view because of the obstructions. and al just looks at him and it’s so obvious al is so in love with him

or race consecutively killing four people cleanly and al is like uh babe wtf how’d you do that and race is like s’just physics n angles it’s nothing and al is like ??? uh babe you’re literally a genius??? and race blushes and he’s like s’ nothing

sometimes people are so used to impulsive n hyper race that when he’s like doing a team thing and he gets into the zone and he’s so good at being a leader??? like he’s so tactical and so smart and so encouraging and people are like how is this the same person???

people making compliations of the besotted looks they’re always giving each other when the other isn’t watching

AHHH YES THERES MORE GREATNESS

- y e s everyone is always so lovely about it and as time goes on it feels more a natural to just leave his camera on cause he gets more comfortable and :,) growth

- albert is generally a very private person, so he does really really love those lil private moments where he can be all affectionate and cute and lovey with nobody around but he’s also kind of an impulsive mess so frequently streaming live on twitch means that there’s loads of examples of him just being super soft and cute and affectionate with race. race is just very vocal and loud and makes sure absolutely everyone knows how much he loves his person so there’s just a lot of it. also he’s not always gaming with albert so he just kinda pets or hugs on albert while he plays sometimes because ✨why not✨

- matching flower crown boys !!!! also albert just gets really overwhelmed with HOW MUCH he loves race sometimes and he just needs to express that immediately but can’t get his words to work so he just randomly grabs race’s face and kisses him breathless sometimes. race definitely isn’t complaining even if he DID almost crush the flower crown

- MATH 👏 GENIUS 👏 RACER 👏

- it needs to be stated that this is a skill race exploits pretty much exclusively in pubg and once he realizes it him and albert become pretty much unstoppable. dynamic duo of the goddamn century

- race is such a leader !!! like he always makes the joke that he’s the brain and al’s the brawn because everyone joins the team because albert is noticeably better than him but he’s got all the hidden strategies and he can actually keep a team moving. also he’s super impulsive except in situations with distinct patterns and solid structure, which is where he Gets Shit Done™️

- there’s every compilation video idea of them under the sun, but this one and the “race and red embarrassing eachother live on stream for ___ minutes straight gay” are the ones done most frequently by far

✨these are all literally magical thank you ✨

#newsies #livesies #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #never not read the tags #ralbert #spam ralbert gang #chaotic red and radioactive racer #youtuber ralbert #youtuber!au

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letsprayitwritesitself · 7 years

Note

Harry Potter AU; Javid

(so the way this is going to go, because i’m so hyped about this, is four sections, following along with the plot of the last four books in the series. this is part one, with the next three to be posted in the next few days.) (also like this is all assuming the reader will have knowledge of the plot of the last four harry potter books!! wikipedia that shit if u dont know!)

again, sincerest hugest thanks 4 this prompt!!!!!!!

Davey knew, logically, that there was no way he could really be hurt at this thing. He was far enough away that he could enjoy the thrill of the event without being nervous (for himself, that is, the kid that was down there was another matter entirely.) But all the same, there was a fucking dragon there.

He would have been content to hear about it from his friends after it happened, head full of fantasies of how quiet the library probably was, how he’d be able to get at the herbology book he’d been coveting for weeks - but they’d forced him out, stressing how historic this tournament was, and how much he’d regret missing it. He didn’t tell them that actually, he’d missed a lot of historic events before, and he was really quite alright with it. For his part he’d made them stand at the back (although he was sure that if a dragon really wanted to hurt them it wouldn’t be put off by the extra fifty feet or so it had to travel.)

‘I wonder how they’re meant to pull this off?’ Albert squinted out into the field, trying to assess what the poor bastards taking part had to deal with. ‘Do they get any help?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Davey had read up a little on these tournaments. ‘I think the point is they’re meant to be able to come up with their own way.’

‘I couldn’t do it, ya know. I’d piss my pants and cry for a really long time, til everyone went home.’

‘That might work.’ Davey raised his eyebrows. ‘The dragon might feel sorry for you and let you win.’

‘Maybe I should have entered my name after all!’

They were interrupted by a short Gryffindor wielding a wad of parchment.

‘You guys want some action?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Davey couldn’t unpick this guy’s phrasing.

‘Good odds on Potter and Diggory. C’mon, let’s liven it up.’

‘It’s already pretty lively, I think.’

‘Give it up, Race,’ another Gryffindor appeared behind the kid and affectionately pulled on his friend’s woolly hat. ‘Them Weasley boys have monopolised the game.’

‘Rats.’ Race tucked his betting slips under his arm.

Davey turned back to Albert. ‘I was about to complain about being cold but I don’t want to tempt fate.’

‘I don’t think the dragon cares too much, Davey.’

‘Hey, I know you.’ Race’s friend butted in. ‘Albert, you’re in my potions, right?’

‘Right! What’s up? Davey, this here’s Jack Kelly. He’s the kid who exploded the Confusing Concotion in Snape’s face in second year, oh my god.’

Davey nodded in greeting, vaguely remembering hearing the story. Jack smiled and reached out his hand to shake Davey’s. It was at that moment that the dragon decided to show the world what a bad mood it was in, and blast a stream of fire over the entire stadium. Davey gasped, and ducked - because there was a fucking dragon there - and if he happened to accidentally squeeze this stranger’s hand, well, that was probably entirely understandable.

Because of the fucking dragon.

Jack grinned and raised his eyebrows but he didn’t pull his hand away. If a cute stranger needed him to protect them, he’d be there.

‘Sorry,’ Davey muttered. He dropped Jack’s hand and looked towards the arena, where the first competitor was coming out to somehow fight the god damn dragon. ‘Apparently dragons make me anxious.’

‘It’s no problem.’

Race and Albert, sharing a look, stepped away so Jack and Davey were standing next to each other. They all turned their attention back to the action. Cedric Diggory looked tiny among the rocks and the dragon had apparently noticed him going for the golden egg. This was terrifying. Davey jumped at every movement down there and, after only a few minutes was watching through his fingers. Cedric was shooting curses to try and distract the creature and they were almost working - not well enough for Davey to be anything less than petrified. A shocking near miss involving a badly timed leap from the champion saw him jump and physically look away.

He felt a nudge from next to him and turned to see Jack smiling and offering his hand.

‘Might help?’

He looked down at the hand and back up at Jack. Part of him wanted to defend himself, say he didn’t need protecting, that he wasn’t even scared - but a way bigger part of him, a very sensible part of him, was on edge, and grateful for the comfort.

And Jack was pretty.

He took the had and held it tight. None of the champions died, and the protective stranger turned out to be good company. Jack managed to supply witticisms to offset the tension of what they were seeing, and Davey appreciated it as much as he appreciated having a hand to squeeze when things got edgy. Even if he’d just met the guy, comfort was comfort.

At the end he let Jack’s hand go with only some reluctance, cringing at the white imprint his fingers had made on Jack’s skin.

‘Sorry. And thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ Jack flexed his hand (it was only moderately painful.) Students around them were emptying the arena fast. Albert and Race started to head off in different directions. Jack took a couple of steps backwards, following Race. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around?’

‘Maybe you will.’ Davey smiled, almost daring himself to ask Jack when he might see him around, but panicking at the last moment. He headed away with Albert.

Race stared, incredulous, at Jack. ‘”Maybe I’ll see you around?”’

‘Didn’t wanna come on too strong!’

‘You just held his had for almost two hours, Jack.’

Jack glanced back over his shoulder and caught a fleeting moment of eye contact with Davey who was doing the same.

‘It’s a good start, isn’t it?’

Davey went to watch the next task with Sarah. Again, he had been planning on staying in and studying, even with the potential draw of handsome strangers offering to protect him from danger. At the same time, he may or may not have been keeping an eye out for Jack Kelly in the week since they had met, and he hadn’t spotted him once. He might not even be at the event, and if he was, there was no guarantee Davey would see him.

Like he had even thought about it.

But Sarah had cornered him at breakfast and told him categorically that they were going on a sibling date to check out the foreign kids in their bathing suits. They ambled down to the hills to take a sailboat into the lake, clad in their big coats and knitted hats, using the opportunity to catch up.

‘What happened to the little kid who used to come and find me every mealtime, huh? Haven’t seen you in weeks.’ Sarah aimed a light kick at him from across the boat. Davey smiled as he remembered how scared he’d been of starting at Hogwarts.

‘I guess I thought that you’d be able to introduce me to people, but you weren’t as cool as you pretended to be.’

‘Excuse you! I happen to be very popular… among… my friends.’

‘You’re right, I’m very sorry, Sarah.’

‘I actually do have some exciting developments in the gal pal department. You know Katherine from seventh year?’

‘I know Katherine from seventh year.’ He clambered out of the boat up to the stand, reaching in to help her up.

‘I’ve been getting to know Katherine from seventh year.’ She grinned, pushing him towards the crowd. ‘We spent all day together in Hogsmeade last weekend and then we had an accidental sleepover by the lake.’

‘Ew. I’ve heard enough.’

‘Not like that, gross! But I am feeling really good about her.’

‘Is she not here today?’

‘No, she’s on press duties. How cool is that?’

‘That is cool. In fact, maybe too cool. Definitely too cool for you.’

‘Luckily she hasn’t realised that yet.’ She poked him in the chest. ‘Your turn.’

‘What?’

‘Anything on the horizon?’ They found a place at the front and Davey leaned over the railing, letting the cold air whip his face, trying to decide if “I met a hot guy a week ago” was sufficient gossip for Sarah.

‘Not really.’

‘Your pause was very telling, Davey.’

‘It’s nothing. There’s no-one.’

‘You’re not getting out of it that easy!’

‘Davey!’ He heard the voice over his shoulder and for a split second he was glad of the distraction, before he realised who it was. Oh boy. He turned to see Jack heading over. He smiled in greeting, ignoring Sarah’s raised eyebrows. ‘You look cold.’

‘Yeah, it’s the… cold.’ His cheeks turned even redder as Jack reached out and touched one gently.

‘Better than almost being set on fire, I guess.’

‘A lot of things are.’ Jack stood next to him, leaning on the rail, looking at Sarah. ‘I’m Jack.’

‘Sarah.’

‘Not crashing a date or something, am I?’

‘Not at all. This here’s my baby brother.’ She grinned at Davey, who had managed to blush harder.

‘Bet you could tell me some stories, huh?’

‘Depends what you wanna know.’

Davey cleared his throat. ‘Guys, it’s starting.’ He didn’t want their conversation going any deeper - he knew what Sarah was like. She loved him a lot but god, she liked making him squirm.

The four champions stepped forward and a distinct impressed mumble passed through the crowd. Jack took a few seconds to rake his eyes over Viktor Krum and his tiny red shorts, and piped up.

‘I’m gayer than I thought.’

Sarah, just barely hearing, was captivated by blonde hair and lycra.

‘Me too.’

During breakfast the day before the first task, an owl dropped a handwritten note into Davey’s porridge.

How about we meet at the last task on purpose?

It was complete with a little moving doodle of cartoon-Jack valiantl protecting cartoon-Davey from a dragon, a drawing that might have been embarrassing were it not, you know, true. All the same it made Davey chuckle quietly, and he pulled out his quill to scribble a yes. Hanging out with Jack at the second task had been fun, even if Davey felt like an asshole for letting Sarah be turned into the third wheel. Jack was funny, making quips about what the mermaids might have stolen from him, and how he’d go about trying to do the task (transforming into a giant squid and fucking up everyone and everything until they handed Crutchie back to him with an apology note.)

At the end when Katherine came over to find Sarah, having finished composing her report, Jack confessed that he’d lost his friends when he spotted Davey, so the two ended up sharing a boat back to the castle. It had all seemed to get very… date-like, something Davey was totally fine with of course, but he was a little reticent in acknowledging it, in case he’d misread all the signals. Even now, telling Jack that he’d like to go with him to the last task, he didn’t want to let himself get too hopeful about the two of them, telling himself that it was still a good thing that Jack wanted to hang out. Even without any… intentions.

He gave the note back to the owl and watched as it soared across the great hall, over to the Gryffindor table he’d spent so long looking for Jack at. It flew all the way to the end, by the door, and he sat up as straight as he could to spot him.

Jack was sitting at the very end of the table, backwards, which went some way to explaining why Davey had never been able to spot him before. He was talking animatedly to a kid at the Hufflepuff table, one who had similarly turned his back on his own housemates. Davey recognised him, it was the kid everyone called Crutchie - he assumed it was an affectionate nickname, but he couldn’t be sure. Now he had found Jack, he watched him read the reply, felt the violent sting of butterflies in his stomach when he saw Jack say something to Crutchie, and Crutchie react with sheer delight.

Then Jack looked over his shoulder and caught Davey staring. Crutchie waved. Davey blushed, obviously. But he smiled too.

They met by the front door and walked across to the arena in the twilight. Davey itched to reach out and take Jack’s hand but even though they’d been there and done that, it would have felt like an enormous assumption. He took his cues from Jack, the more confident of the two, who was interested in using the cold weather to his advantage. They found decent spots towards the back.

‘Who d’you think’s gonna take this?’ Davey asked as they stared down at the hedges.

‘As much as I wanna say one of our guys, I kind of want it to be Krum. But I think that’s just me falling for his charm.’

‘Is that your type?’ This felt like a very brazen and un-Davey thing to say, but he saw a tiny window and had to leap through it. Jack pretended to think about it for a moment.

‘You know, I’m not sure. I’m starting to think I prefer someone a little taller. Little cuter.’ He looked at Davey. ‘Little smarter.’

‘How do you know how smart he is?’

‘I know how smart you are. Odds are he don’t match up.’

Davey looked at the ground to hide the grin that forced it’s way on to his face. Jack bit his lip, shuffling from one foot to the other.

‘Sorry, that was too corny. You can tell me to stop it.’

‘I don’t really want you to stop it.’ He looked back up at Jack. The air was full of excitement. Student babbled incoherently around them, and suddenly they’d both admitted something. They were quiet amongst the chaos for a moment and it was Jack who, with a smile on his face, started to lean in.

Cheers exploded around them as they kissed for the first time and they took a couple of seconds to pretend it was for them, riding the high of what sounded like a Hogwarts victory, with their own personal wave of elation. It only lasted a moment, more sweet and searching than anything else.

Their resultant dopey grins fell quickly as they heard an anguished scream from the field. Something was wrong.

Reflexively Davey reached for Jack’s hand, seeking that comfort, as he tried to figure out what was going on. The news of Cedric’s death travelled up to them via murmurs in the crowd and catalysed the wave of unease that the castle wouldn’t shake for months, that contradicted fiercely with the new happiness Jack and Davey had found, and yet that gave them more reason to cling to each other.

#newsies fic #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #newsies #Blessed by this prompt tbh

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Text

Spiral Part 3

Fandom: Newsies

Characters: Racetrack Higgins, Jack Kelly, Katherine Plumber, Medda Larkin, Spot Conlon, Crutchie Morris, OC- Drake

Words: 8K+

It amazed Race how still his brother could be. His brother had never been so still in his life. His brother was known for not being able to sit still. Just like Race himself.

They understood each other so well. Jack understood him so well. Better than he'd ever known.

Maybe even better than he understood himself.

"Stop looking at him like that..." Charlie pleaded.

Rubbing at his damp cheeks, Race hardly even glanced up. "Like what?" he croaked out, looking back down at Jack who was laying flatly on the bed. His voice was harsh and watery. He hadn't meant for it to be.

"Like you're afraid he's not gonna make it." The words were spoken with such terror that Race could feel a sob stop in his throat. Charlie was only trying to convince himself that the young man on the bed was actually okay. That he'd be alright.

The truth was that they didn't know if Jack would be alright. He was just laying there, his eyes lazily closed and a tube placed down his throat, breathing for him.

Race didn't look back up at Charlie. He looked down at his hands. "What if he doesn't?" He knew he shouldn't have asked it. But he had to. Because if Jack didn't make it, it was his fault.

And everyone knew it.

The boy sitting on the opposite side of the bed looked over at Race with the most defensive, determined glare he'd ever seen. "Don't you dare, Antonio," he hissed. His little brother's heart stuttered only for a moment at his full name coming out of that boy's mouth. "Don't you dare give up on him like that—!" he shouted, shooting to his feet. Race flinched and sat up further in his seat, unprepared for his big brother to lash out.

Crutchie was supposed to be the calm one.

"Charlie… calm down, baby—," Medda tried, but the young man could not.

"Don't tell me ta calm down when he says somethin' stupid like that!" Charlie cried in something almost comparable to a whisper. The tears came fast for him. He couldn't stop them. His younger brother couldn't either.

Race felt a hand come down gently on his back. He let out a shaky breath as he hunched over and rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I'm sorry..." he whimpered out, tears falling down and dropping onto his legs as he leaned over even further, trying to hide. Though, he wasn't sure if he was apologizing for scaring Charlie even further or creating this whole mess to begin with.

If Jack were awake, he would've taken Race's wrists in his hands and stopped him from tangling his fingers so tightly in his blond curls. But Jack wasn't awake. And Race needed something to ground him.

God knows Charlie couldn't. Not right then.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He couldn't stop. He didn't know what else he could say. Not with Jack laying there so lifeless. So fragile.

"I'm so sorry, Jackie..."

If Jack were there he would've taken Race's wrists in his hands and stopped him from tangling his fingers so tightly in his blond curls. But Jack wasn't there and Race needed something to ground him.

He was practically running.

He couldn't be late. Not again.

Jack had offered to drive him. Crutchie had woken him up two hours ago. But he hadn't gotten up and Jack had more important things to worry about than taking him to school every morning and getting stuck in traffic on his way back.

He grasped at his messy curls with one hand, knowing one more tardy slip meant detention.

He was moving so quickly that the shoulder he bumped didn't register in his mind until he felt a splash of hot liquid on his shirt.

The boy froze, his eyes wide as he whirled around, apology already on his lips as he turned, only to be met with the most charming and beautiful grey eyes he'd ever seen in his life. He stuttered as the man turned to meet him, looking angry only for a split second before his gaze found Race, looking more and more like a lone deer caught in some headlights. That's when his tight jaw loosened just a bit and his lips curled into a sly smile.

"U-um… I… look… I… I'm so sorry! I'm… I just-" the boy tried, not truly knowing what thoughts were flying through his reeling brain. All he could register was this man. This beautiful person in front of him with thick, long brown hair, a perfect complexion and a blinding smile.

And then that laugh. That laugh that made Race want to laugh too. The one he'd hang on day in and day out for years to come. "You're lucky you're pretty, blondie. What's your name?"

Race's heart was beating so fast he was sure he would die. "Uhm," he squeaked, inwardly wincing as he cleared his throat. "It's Tony… Antonio... " he clarified, though he shook his head and couldn't stop his lips from continuing on without his brain. "Tony for short, but no one really calls me that because my brother really likes to, uh, he likes to give people names, like nicknames, an' when I w-was a little younga' he started callin' me Racetrack, but now everyone calls me 'Race' because I guess I'm a fast runner even though I never really liked runnin'-"

Again that laugh. That laugh sounded like bells. It was a beautiful sound that made Race blush and try to hide his embarrassed smile as the man took a small step closer to him. If he had to guess, Race would say this man was in college, or at least of that age group. "Well, Race," the stranger began, smiling down at him with such a perfect glint in his eye. The boy went a bit weak in the knees at the man's gaze. "It looks like you owe me another coffee," he laughed. "Where're you headed?"

It took a moment for the boy to remember. Where was he going? "Uh… Roosevelt… High School… Roosevelt High School…"

Nodding along, the man thought for a second. "Okay… why don't you meet me after at the coffee house just around the corner from that? You can buy me another coffee and maybe afterwards we can hang out and you can tell me why you're running so fast?"

This man was clearly older than him. Clearly out of high school, at the very least. But, Race could only dumbly nod his head, trying hard not to think about what his brothers would say.

"Okay, pretty boy…" the man grinned. "See you then…"

Then the man made to walk away. But it only just occurred to Race that he'd never gotten the man's name. "Wait!" he called, rushing back over to the beautiful stranger. "I… I never got your name…"

"Drake…"

Drake. Drake. Drake. Drake. Drake. It was all Race could see. It was all he could think about. Those grey eyes and that smile.

And that goddamn laugh.

A laugh he'd never hear again.

He curled up in a ball back in the waiting room, completely unsure of what to do with himself. He felt sick, like he could vomit any minute now. He felt angry, like punching a wall. He felt devastated and lost and confused and maybe it was his fault. Maybe something he'd done had changed the man he loved somehow. Maybe Drake would have been better if they would have never met.

One thing's for sure. Drake would still be alive if they'd never met.

The waiting room chairs were uncomfortable and confining but with the rigidness of the kid's whole body, he hardly noticed. He could hear himself trying to breath. It sounded like he was wheezing. He couldn't feel the oxygen trying to reach his lungs. He so desperately wanted to be with Jack, but he couldn't take Charlie lashing out at him again.

It wasn't Charlie's fault. Charlie had every right to be angry with him, to want him away from their big brother.

He just couldn't handle it.

He heard the door open and he tried to get control of himself as he untangled his body from his fetal position, looking up only to find that officer standing there, a cup of coffee in his hand and a sorry look on his face. Race sniffled and viciously wiped at his face with his sleeves, irritating his skin. His cheeks were red. The tears didn't stop. "Wh-what're you still doin' here?" he hiccuped.

Sighing and pulling up a chair across from the boy, Conlon shrugged. "Just wanted to ask you a few more questions… another officer is gonna be on his way a little later, just to try and put all of this together himself-"

"Put what together?" Race spat, shaking his head. "I told you everything," he insisted, his voice rising in volume and pitch as he just tried to understand for himself what was happening. "I killed my husband. There. Take me ta jail, I don't care! I killed him and this is all my fault n'-"

"You saved your brother's life," Sean interrupted, his voice almost emotionless. "You killed your husband to save your brother. You made a choice."

Tears spilled faster down his face as Race let his head fall into his hands. "I didn't mean to kill him… I just… I loved him… I was neva' gonna leave him… I…" he let the sobs fall, feeling the guilt rolling around inside of him. "I just needed a break..."

All Spot could offer the young man was a sad smile and a small cup of coffee.

And Race took it.

"Drake… it's beautiful…"

"Yeah…" the other boy sighed.

Race was gazing up at the stars.

Drake was looking at him.

For as long as Race could remember, he hadn't been able to see the stars. Not in New York.

But this wasn't New York.

Drake had taken him on a trip. It had been a couple months now. A couple of months of promising his brothers that they'd meet him eventually.

Race had given Albert a twenty to convince his family that he was staying at his place for the night.

"I… I'm in love with you…"

Race turned at that. "What?"

They were laying in the bed of Drake's old pick up truck, snuggled up in a blanket. But now Race was propped up on his elbow and he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. But Drake was looking at him like he was the most precious and fragile thing in the world, like if he made one wrong move, Race would just up and leave.

Race completely melted.

"I… Antonio, I'm so in love with you…" the man repeated, reaching to brush the boy's hair. Race couldn't take his eyes off of him.

He wished he could just stay in that moment for the rest of forever.

"I wanna be with you everyday… I wanna make you laugh everyday… I wanna see that beautiful smile everyday… I wanna spend the rest of my life with you…"

Those words made Race's heart stutter with excitement. And he felt tears in his eyes. "Drake… I... I love you too, baby."

The pure joy that sparked in the man's eyes was unlike anything Race had ever seen before. And before he could comprehend what was happening, Drake was up, scooping him up into his arms. The boy squealed and laughed, clinging to his boyfriend as Drake held him tightly.

"I promise I'll always take care of you, babe… I'll never hurt you… never… I promise…"

Race grinned and pecked his lover on the cheek. "I love you, Drake…"

The tears had slowed. At least, for now. And Race sat alone, an almost empty coffee cup in his hand as he fought to make his mind go blank. He sat more still than he'd ever sat in his life, focusing a bit too much on breathing and feeling his whole body wanting to give out on him.

He couldn't sleep. Not now. He was terrified of what might happen if he fell asleep.

So he took another sip of the coffee that was hardly warm anymore.

And he didn't look up when the door was pushed open.

"Racer…" someone sighed.

The boy still didn't look up. He bit his lip. He should be done crying by now. The tears had to run out eventually.

Within seconds, Race could see someone's shoes and the end of a metal crutch in front of him. And then his big brother was sitting in the ground at his feet. And Race's gaze didn't move. "Kid… I'm sorry. I didn't… this isn't your fault. It's not."

The younger man shook his head. "Ya know, Charlie… The worst part about this is that… it was… it is... it's all my fault n' you got every right ta hate me," the boy stated, his voice letting out as a squeak by the end of his sentence as he imagined a world without Charlie. Without Jack. Without his brothers.

It was no world he wanted to be apart of.

But Charlie's face softened immediately. "Tony… I couldn't neva' hate you, kid…"

Race didn't respond. He just looked down at his lap in shame, not knowing what else he could say. Because maybe Charlie didn't hate him. Maybe Jack would one day forgive him. But that wasn't the biggest problem.

The boy couldn't figure out how he'd ever be able to live with himself again.

"Hey… can ya look at me?"

Race shook his head, swallowing hard. And before he knew it, arms were around him and his head was tucked into the crook of his brother's neck. He sniffled and tried to relax into the embrace. The cup was taken from his hand and Charlie shushed him when he tried to protest. "You're okay. You're here with me an' we're okay," the older boy promised.

So Race closed his eyes, focusing on the steady breaths he could feel brush over his hair.

"Please, Jackie, just wait one minute and he'll be here-" Race begged as Jack rushed around the room, pulling his grey jacket over his shoulders and shoving his wallet in his back pocket.

"Racer, you know I'd love ta meet him, but I promised Kath I'd be over to work on illustrations a half hour ago n' she's freakin' out a little bit right now because we're supposed ta meet with an editor today, so I really don't have time ta wait, I'm sorry," Jack rambled as he grabbed his bag of art supplies, slinging it over his shoulders as Race pouted at him from his place in the middle of the living room. "I'm sorry, kid. But if you really like him, I'm sure I'll like him too," Jack stated, as he walked past his little brother and ruffled the boy's hair.

Race didn't make a move to stop him. Jack was finally doing what he'd always wanted to and today was the opportunity of a lifetime. He was about to open his mouth to concede when there was a knock at the door. And Race's pout melted into a smile. Before his brother managed to reach the front door, the kid was rushing to it, opening up just to jump into the arms of his boyfriend who only laughed and swept him up off the ground. "Hey, babe!"

"Hi, Racer," Drake chuckled, kissing him and then lowering him back down to the ground.

"Babe! This is my brother Jack! Jack, this is Drake," the youngest of them introduced with the sort of energy only he could possess. He turned back to his brother to see the young man offering him an amused smile as he sighed and held his hand out towards Drake.

"Hi, nice ta meet you," Jack greeted kindly. Race couldn't help but notice how professional he sounded. Jack was growing up fast. The boy couldn't help but miss the goofier side of his brother. It was still there. Just, not quite as often as it once had been.

But it was okay. Jack was still Jack. And he would never lose Jack.

"Nice to meet you, Jack. Race talks about you a lot," Drake smiled. Race grinned and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's middle. Drake kissed his head and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jack's eyes flashed towards that hand, a look that the younger boy couldn't quite place rushing across his features for only a moment before Jack's eyes were back on him, as if he were making sure Race was okay.

Then the oldest boy smiled and nodded. "Could say the same thing about you," he joked. "Alright, Racer, I'll see ya tomorrow, okay?" he stated, moving to press a kiss to Race's hair. The arm around him tightened.

Jack seemed to notice. But he didn't say a thing.

"Bye, Jackie!" the boy shouted as the older boy made his way out the door.

Jack paused in the doorway, suddenly hesitant to leave. He turned back, sighing as he saw his brother grinning at him. And he managed a smile. "Love you, Racer."

"Love you, Jackie!"

"Tony… wake up, kiddo…"

Tony hummed, feeling reality crash back down on him as he opened his eyes. He was laid out over someone's lap. Charlie. Charlie was there.

And so was someone else.

"Hey, Tony… how ya doin', pal?"

David.

Tony didn't move. He closed his eyes again and sniffled, wishing he could just sleep forever. He'd never have to face this. His friends. His family. Once they all heard the full story, they'd never speak to him again.

God, Jack would never speak to him again.

"Antonio?"

"Katherine?"

Katherine. Race opened his eyes. And there she was. The closest thing he ever had to a sister. And Race let himself sit up and embrace her without even thinking about how much she'd hate him. There was just something about her. Something about that woman that made him feel safe and okay.

Katherine was Race's partner in crime. One of many. Definitely the most frequent.

She stumbled a bit at the force, but held him back even tighter. "Hey, my little prince…" she sighed, hugging him closely.

Race whimpered, tangling a hand in her hair as he looked past her shoulder to his big brother's best friend. Davey looked terrible. So Race reached out for the man. And Davey clasped his hand. Race pulled him forward just as Crutchie wrapped his arms around him and Katherine from behind. He didn't deserve these pure people.

But somehow he had them.

"I'm so sorry…" he apologized for what must've been the millionth time.

No one said anything. They just held him tighter than he was sure they ever had before. And all he could do was let them.

Race's knee bounced up and down rapidly as he stared down at the book open on his desk. He'd read the same page seven times now. And yet he had no idea what it said.

His pencil twisted around in his shaking hand. He was ready to scream. He blinked, trying to center himself.

Twelve hours left until finals week. It was his senior year. He had to focus. He had to do this.

He felt a hand trail over his shoulder. But he shrugged it off, feeling a shiver run down his spine involuntarily. "Babe, not now," he said, reaching up and taking a sip of the Gatorade that was sitting above his books and mess of papers.

They were alone in Medda's house. And Race loved that Drake wanted to be with him. But he had to focus right now

"Cmon, Love… take a… thirty minute break?" the man asked, leaning down to kiss and nibble at the base of Race's neck.

The boy relaxed beneath the touch a bit, but then moved out of it, shaking his head. "I don't have time, D… I gotta get this right. I'm barely holdin' a C in Trig right now," he stated, not even looking back at the young, beautiful man behind him.

But Drake pulled away from him and growled a bit in frustration. "Come on, seriously?" he grumbled. Race only turned to catch the young man crossing his arms over his chest. The pout on his lips was adorable and made Race's heart melt. But he shook his head and turned back to his books, pushing his classes up further on his face.

"Baby… you know I love you, but I really gotta focus right now." He felt butterflies rolling around in his stomach. He was nervous about these tests. If he didn't pass, he didn't graduate. If he didn't graduate, he'd never get anywhere in life and he'd be stuck working retail for the rest of his life.

"Tony, I'll make it fast," Drake promised.

Tony didn't answer. He just took a few more notes, clearly ignoring his boyfriend.

He tried to get into some kind of zone. Tried to focus. God knows he'd never been good at focus.

But when a hand grabbed the back of his chair and forcefully spun him around, Race gasped only for lips to come down harshly on his own. He sat stunned for a moment, his brain not fully able to comprehend what had just happened before he was automatically kissing those lips back.

It lasted for a good minute or two. But eventually, the younger boy had to pull away. "Drake, I said no," he whispered again, feeling a sort of guilt rise up in his chest.

But Drake didn't stop.

He kissed his boy again. And Race couldn't help himself. He kissed back. Just for a moment. A moment before his stubbornness kicked back in and he pulled away. "Drake, baby, I love you, but I really can't right now—" He was cut off by his own gasp when his lover forcefully pulled him up, passionately biting at his lip. The boy felt himself tense for a moment, not quite used to the roughness after all these years.

Then, without a word, Race was being carried over to his own bed. He felt something in his chest jump at the hunger in Drake's eyes. Though, he couldn't decipher whether it was fear or excitement.

Or maybe he didn't want to.

The man dropped him down onto the bed, moving to suck at his neck as his hands fiddled with Race jeans. "Drake, I can't—"

Drake cut him off with a rough kind of kiss and it was only at that moment that Race knew his wrists were pinned down by his boyfriend's hands.

Not quite sure why Drake wasn't listening to him, the boy stopped trying to speak and instead watched as Drake pulled away with a mischievous grin on his face. He must've seen the slight alarm in Race's eyes, because he softened merely seconds later. And he let go of the boy's wrists. "Hey… c'mon…" he coaxed, offering Race his perfect smile. "We can make it quick…" he promised, reaching up to caress his boy's face.

Race sighed. He glanced over at his desk full of work and books and then back at his pleading boyfriend. And he managed a strained smile. "Okay…"

Drake grinned.

"He's awake... you should go in, baby… he wants to see you…"

Race could hardly look up at his mother. He managed. Barely. Not without the nudge he got from his brother.

Charlie rubbed the younger boy's shoulder and Race looked up to him as the other man gave him an encouraging nod. He looked over to Katherine. She just offered him a sad, watery smile. "Go on, Tony…"

Tony sniffled, but reached up for his mother's outstretched hands. And he let her lead him into the hallway where she pressed a request button on the wall and waited for the doors to open towards her. Race's legs were shaking. But his mother held his hand.

The hallway felt long and narrow. The walls were closing in on him. He didn't know what he was going to say. He didn't know what to do to fix this.

Jack was hurt. Possibly dying.

And it was all his fault.

But his mother walked comfortably into the room where his brother was lying all alone, unable to move, unable to speak. There were slow tears falling down his face.

Nothing could have prepared the boy for the way those green eyes lit up when they found him standing like a lost puppy in the doorway. Then Jack reached for him, his hand shaking. It was clearly painful for him to move. A sob escaped Race's throat once again as he all but fell forward. He rushed to the man, taking his calloused hand in his own and bringing it up to the bridge of his nose. He didn't say anything. He just cried as Jack did. Medda's hand came down on his back just as he fell into the chair behind him.

As he held Jack's hand, the man relaxed and let his eyes fall shut. His fingers twitched and brushed over Race's cheek. The boy sniffled and helped his brother caress his cheek. "Jackie…" he breathed, holding the man's wrist and hand so carefully against his own skin.

Jack sighed and let his head lull to the side. But Race refused to let go of the man's hand as he began to drift out of consciousness once again.

Race stirred at the smell of bacon. He could vaguely hear someone moving around beside him. And he allowed himself a sleepy smile.

"Drake…" he sighed just as arms encircled his torso. He turned into the embrace and let his eyes open. A kiss was pressed to his forehead. "What're ya doin', Love?"

"I'm making my beautiful boyfriend breakfast. Is that a crime?" the man laughed, brushing at the boy's hair.

Race snorted and watched as Drake lay down beside him. The older man placed a hand on his hip. And Race just studied him.

He had no idea how the man was so handsome.

For a long while they just lay there, watching each other and laying with each other.

Drake reached forward to caress his cheek. And Race smiled. Drake seemed to melt. "Would you just marry me?" he whispered.

Race froze. "Wh… what?"

Drake sat up, still staring down at him. "Marry me. Please, Antonio… I… I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you… you're my everything, baby."

Still, the shock had not worn off. Race slowly sat up in Drake's bed. And he looked at the man like he'd grown two heads. "Are you serious?"

He barely finished his question before Drake had surged forward to capture his lips desperately in his own. "Antonio… I… love… you…" he muttered between the sloppy kisses. And then he pulled away. "I think I'd die without you, Tonio…" Those words. Those words were what made Race stop. He looked up at his man. He studied him finding nothing but the truth in his eyes. "I wanna fall asleep next to you every night and kiss you first thing every morning and make you breakfast in bed and goddamn it, you beautiful boy, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

Stunned didn't even begin to describe Race in that moment. He felt like he couldn't breathe. His mind was running much faster than it ever had before.

He loved Drake. He really did.

"We can go down to the courthouse tonight. We can go to Europe tomorrow for all I care. Babe… I wanna be yours and I want you to be mine…"

But he was only nineteen.

"Baby…" he began, unsure of how to continue when there was so much hope in those mesmerizing grey eyes. "I…"

Before he could continue, Drake reached back into the top drawer of his nightstand. He opened it.

And Race couldn't breathe.

"Antonio Isaac Higgins… will you marry me?"

It was happening so fast.

It was too real.

But Race found tears gathering in his eyes at the thought.

Someone loved him. Someone wanted to be with him forever. Someone was promising him everything and more with one simple question.

And all Race could say was, "Yes."

"Hey… Tony?"

It had been hours by now. Race was sure of it. Jack was in and out of it. Katherine sat on the other side of him, stroking his hair and shushing him when he whined every time he woke up. Crutchie was by the window, reading a book and gazing up at Jack every now and again when he remembered why he was trying to distract himself. Medda was down grabbing some coffee.

Tony looked up to the door to find Davey peaking in, gesturing for him to stand. The boy looked back down at his big brother, wiping at his nose before leaning down and kissing the man's cheek.

Following the man out of the room, Race found himself face to face with that cop again. And he froze, feeling a cold fear rise up in him. Spot seemed to sense that. And he shook his head. "Hey, you're not going to jail, okay? But I do need ta explain ta you what's gonna happen next…" the man stated, gesturing for Race to sit down in the waiting room.

He did. And Davey sat next to him.

"Okay… I know this is a tough time for you. But I need ta tell ya that you are gonna wanna get a lawyer," Spot advised, leaning towards him as he sat in his own chair. Race shook his head, about to argue, but Spot put up a hand. "I'm sure he'll tell ya the same thing I'm tellin' ya now. You didn't have time ta call for help. You did the only thing you could do ta save your brother. It's pretty straight forward. But you're still gonna have ta go in front of a jury and be exonerated—"

"But—"

"Race…" Davey called, his voice calm and light as he rubbed the boy's back. Race looked up at him. And Davey nodded at him, silently telling him that everything was going to be alright. Then the man turned back to Spot. "Thank you… is there anything else he needs to do?"

Spot sighed and thought for a moment before shrugging. "It might be helpful if he were able to write out a statement, just a recollection of what exactly happened. It's important that he recalls as much detail as possible."

They continued to talk about him, as if he weren't there. And Race couldn't help but let his mind wander.

"Drake, I wasn't flirting with him. He just asked a question. That's it!"

"You were practically throwing yourself at him!"

"I was not! I was just bein' polite—"

"He wanted to get in your pants and you were gonna welcome him in, weren't ya?!"

"Drake!" Race shouted, appalled at the accusation. He stood stunned in the middle of their living room. Drake was pacing in front of him. Tipsy and angry.

Not a great mix.

He'd been getting jealous lately. Apparently the ring around Race's finger did nothing to tell the man that he had promised Drake his future already. He could understand Drake wanting to protect him. But Race didn't understand why his husband was making such a big deal of this.

"You know what's worse, Tony?! You're practically asking for it! Wearing those stupid tight pants and your muscle shirt n'—"

"I came from the studio, D! What d'ya want me ta wear? A bag?" Race spat back, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"I want you to stop drawing that kind of attention to yourself! You—"

"Drake, listen to yourself! I was wearing the same things I always wear! I wasn't flirting with anybody—"

Drake had walked Race home from the studio. They'd stopped to get a drink. Someone had asked Race about the band logo on his shirt.

It wasn't a big deal.

Drake seemed to feel differently.

Without warning, he grabbed a stray glass off the counter and turned, swinging hard.

The cup cracked and broke against the boy's skull.

Race didn't remember much after that.

He recalled feeling himself fall. Arms around him. The panicked voice of his husband above him. Sirens, bright lights, unfamiliar hands and voices.

But when he woke up, it wasn't Drake who was sitting beside him.

"Hey, kiddo…"

It was Jack.

"Jack?"

"Shhhhhh…" the man soothed. "You took a bad blow ta the head, Racer. Ya got a concussion…"

The boy looked around. A hospital. "Where's… where's Drake?"

Jack sighed and looked towards the door. "Buddy… look… can you be honest with me n' tell me what happened?"

Race gave him a subtle glare. "Where's my husband?" the boy asked again.

Jack looked like he was about to cry. And he shook his head. "He's just talkin' ta the doctor, Tony. But I really need ya ta tell me what happened…" he asked again.

Race reached up to feel his forehead. But Jack gently grasped his wrist. He held it gently and looked at his brother like he thought he might break. "Jack, it wasn't nothin'—"

The door opened, and in walked a guilt ridden Drake. The man rushed to his husband and embraced him. Race let him, only hardly flinching at the quick contact. "Oh baby… I'm so glad you're awake…"

Race wrapped his arms around the man's waist and relaxed into him. "It was just n' accident, Jack…" he explained quietly.

And Drake nodded. "Yeah, Tony was putting the dishes away and he didn't push one of our cups back far enough. It fell out and hit him on the head…"

Race squinted a bit in surprise. His husband had just lied. Flat out. And Race was quite certain Jack didn't believe a word of it.

But all he could do was nod.

And Jack sighed. "Okay… you need ta rest, kid. Mama's comin' down lata' n' Crutchie wants ta call ta make sure you's ok…"

Race nodded again and reached a hand out for his brother. Jack took it, refusing to look up at Drake.

The room was tense. And Race didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything. And he tried to relax into the company of the two people he loved most in the world.

But it wasn't working.

"It looks like he's gonna pull through. We must've gotten to him just in time. He lost a lot of blood and is still very weak, but the tube can come out soon and he should be able to go home in a week or so if all goes well."

Race allowed himself the sweet sense of relief at the words of the nurse who had come to give them an update on his brother. He looked down at the man on the bed, still looking exhausted, but awake nonetheless. He nodded and let out a breath, watching as Katherine leaned down to kiss her man on the head. Jack smiled weakly and then closed his eyes again.

And Race felt like crying all over again.

"Um… when… when can the tube come out?" he asked, his voice cracking as he'd hardly used it in the past day.

The nurse paused, a sad smile on her face as she turned to him. "Hopefully tomorrow if he's a little stronger by then," she said before walking out of the room.

Race nodded and ran a hand through his mess of curls. Crutchie had finally gotten him to change his clothes. He still hadn't changed into them. He didn't want to move again. It was all too much.

"See, pal? Everything's gonna be okay," he promised. "Now, c'mon… ya gotta get outta those clothes okay?" The older boy stood with the help of his crutches.

Race shook his head. "I can do it myself, Charlie…" At that, the young man laying on the bed reached over to him, weakly holding his hand as drowsy green eyes looked up at him. Race felt himself beginning to break again. And he shook his head. "I… It's almost healed…" he said, earning sad look from Jack and a sigh from Crutchie.

But Crutchie nodded towards the door. "C'mon, pal… you're gonna be alright…"

For the first time in months, Race started to genuinely believe it.

Race was sitting on the subway. His was the next stop. He didn't want to get off.

He would rather sit here with these strangers than face his husband at that moment.

His studio wanted him to star in their next ballet. Him. It was huge. A huge deal.

But it meant long nights. It meant rehearsal for weeks straight and training for hours every day. It meant going a couple days without seeing Drake.

He wanted to do it.

Drake would not feel the same.

He thought about calling his mama. Maybe it would be worth it to just hear the excitement in her voice. She was always so happy for him when these things happened.

Drake hadn't wanted him to audition in the first place. But he had. And he hadn't told the other man.

He dreaded the conversation he was about to have.

So he sighed when his stop came. And he didn't make any move to stand.

Instead, he opened up his phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hey, D…" Race muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "I… I gotta… um… I… I got it, babe… I got the lead…" he said, feeling the excitement rise in his chest as he said it. Of all the dancers in that studio, he'd gotten it. And that was exciting.

A scoff came on the other end of the line. "You're kidding right?"

"Drake… I know we said—"

"No, babe. No. I'm not doing that again. I hardly got to see you for two months last time. Tell them no."

Race could've sobbed right then and there. In the middle of the train. Surrounded by strangers.

He wanted this. He wanted to do this. It was important to him.

"D… It's a good show n'—"

"Antonio. No."

He swallowed hard. Without even arguing, he just hung up the phone in defeat and pulled his hood up over his head.

And he sat on the subway for an hour, not wanting to move.

Until someone walked in and grabbed his arm. Race didn't stop him.

"Tony, I can't believe you. After we talked about it you still just…"

Race tuned him out. He didn't want to listen. He knew what they'd talked about. He also knew he'd pleaded with his husband to understand how much he loved to dance.

But Drake didn't want him dancing in the studio. Not without him there.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

They were on the street. Almost home. And Drake still had a harsh grip on Race's wrist. He pulled the boy with him until they made it inside.

And before Race could even speak, he was thrown onto the couch.

"What the hell happened to you passing this one up?!" Drake demanded. "We talked about this! You said that—"

"I said I wanted to n' you didn't listen! They were holdin' auditions today, I just happened ta be there n' they asked me ta come in! Do you have any idea how big of 'n opportunity this is—"

The slap caught Race off guard.

It stung.

He willed himself to just go numb as he took off running.

It still hurt.

But now he sat, curled up in Charlie's old sweatshirt and sweatpants from college. He watched as Jack sat up on the bed, holding Katherine's hand as the nurse talked to them.

It was time for the tube to come out. Jack was strong enough to breathe on his own.

And Race could only sit and watch.

"Alright, Mr. Kelly-Larkin. Let's get this over with…" the young woman said, smiling at him as Jack winked at her.

The process was quick enough. And for a moment, Jack just sat there, remembering what it was like to breathe on his own. But then Crutchie laughed. "Alright, Jackie… say somethin'," he prompted, knowing his brother wanted to.

And Race leaned closer to the bed, waiting for the voice that always seemed to calm him.

Jack looked around and every person in that took until his eyes landed on Tony's own. And he managed a smile. "What, ya miss the sound a' my voice already?" he joked.

Katherine laughed. David rolled his eyes. Medda smiled and Crutchie grinned. Race just stared at him, almost like he was afraid his big brother would disappear. And Jack reached out for his hand.

Race took it without a second thought.

Race's cheek stung. He didn't know how he'd gotten here. It had been slow going. He hadn't truly seen it coming. Not even after all the signs.

Not after the charming smirks and the well placed words and sneaky hands. Not after the possessive behavior or outbursts.

He'd missed it somehow.

Maybe he just hadn't wanted to see it.

Drake had hit him again.

It wasn't so frequent. It wasn't like Drake went out of his way to make Race his punching bag. And… maybe it was just an accident. Drake hadn't meant it, after all. Not really. He never did. Something just took over. Something Drake couldn't control. And maybe Race shouldn't have been so loud and harsh towards him.

But it still hurt.

The hits. They still hurt. His ribs. They still hurt. His body was still sore for being thrown every which way. Into walls. Onto the bed. Even after he'd told Drake to stop.

He didn't know what he could do except get out of bed and pull some pants on.

It was one in the afternoon. Race had to get up.

Drake had been drunk. He hadn't meant it.

Part of him wanted to call someone. His brother. He wanted Jack. He wanted Jack to tell him it was okay to be scared. It was okay to want to leave. He wanted to tell Jack everything.

But the second Race reached over and clicked open his phone, still laying flat on his back on his bed, he saw the picture that was posted there on his lock screen.

Him and Drake. And damn, they looked so happy.

Crutchie had taken it. The day that Race had gotten married to the man. Both of them wore suits and they were standing just outside the courthouse, holding each other and grinning.

Drake hadn't wanted them to come. He'd said they didn't need anybody. But Race has insisted. His family was coming. Drake might have left his own behind. But Race couldn't.

He let his screen go dark again as the phone dropped down to his chest. He winced. Glancing over at his husband, he sniffled, watching as Drake slept much too peacefully. The younger man pushed the blankets off of himself and held his breath as he sat up on the edge of the bed, carefully swinging his legs over the side.

He took a deep breath and let out an airy grunt as he tried to stand. He ground his teeth together, trying to stay quiet.

Drake had been rough last night. Way too rough.

His wrists hurt from being held down. He'd tried to get away. He'd tried to lock himself in the bathroom. He hadn't made it in time.

The door was broken now.

Race held himself around the middle as he swallowed hard, choking back sobs. He didn't know what to do now. So he carefully got himself dressed before he pulled himself into the bathroom, not daring to turn the light on. He didn't want to wake Drake.

There was a bruise forming around his right cheek. His hair was a mess. He was terrified to lift up his shirt.

So he didn't. He just pulled his curls down and brushed through them with his fingers

It wasn't the first time. That's what made it so much worse.

It had built over time. The violence. The way Drake craved him. The way he had to have him.

He didn't know what to do.

He loved this man. He did. Drake was his everything. Drake made him so happy. Drake loved him. Drake wanted to buy him a house and start a family with him.

Drake was his family.

He washed his face. It was slow and agonizing to move. But he did it. And he felt a little better. A little more awake.

So he dragged his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. There was a pinch in his stomach. He was hungry.

Drake would be hungry too, when he woke up.

Race grabbed some vegetables from the fridge and a can of broth.

Soup sounded good.

His arms were still around himself as he moved. It hurt.

They were alone. At least, mostly. Charlie was asleep in the chair by the window. But Race knew there was no waking him at this point. And that was a good thing.

Jack was sketching lazily in one of his old art books. Kath had brought it to him only a moment ago before David had taken her to get something to eat. Medda was on the phone outside the door, talking to someone. Race didn't know who.

But he was here, with Jack. And he didn't know what to say.

So he didn't. He just watched his brother tiredly draw out outlines for Katherine's new book. But Jack could feel his eyes on him. It only took another moment. Another moment before Jack was placing his pad on the side of the bed along with the pencil. And he turned to look at the younger boy.

Race felt tears pricking at his eyes again. He was sure he should be fresh out of them. And yet, here they were, ready to fall all over again.

"It's okay, kiddo…" Jack promised. "It's okay ta be angry and scared and upset."

Race didn't know how his brother did it. How Jack read his mind so easily. But he sniffled and shrugged. "You were right, Jack… he… I was scared a' him… n' I don't know why… but I still loved him so damn much…" he whimpered, unsure of how he was supposed to feel. "N'... he nearly killed you because a' me… how 'm I supposed ta—"

"Okay, come here…" Jack coaxed, stretching out his left arm as much as he could without causing himself too much pain. Race did as he was told and he lay his head down carefully on his brother's chest. Jack placed a hand on his hair and thumbed at the boy's cheek. "Ya hear my heartbeat?" Jack asked. Race sniffled and nodded. "Just focus on that…"

The tears began to fall at that. Race closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath as he did so.

"You lost your husband, baby brother… you're allowed to be scared. But you saved my life, ya hear me?"

The boy let his brother tangle fingers in his hair. "I promised him I'd neva' hurt him…"

Jack looked heartbroken at the statement. He looked like he didn't know what to say. And Race allowed himself to fall apart again. "Oh kiddo… hey… you are gonna be okay… hey…"

"I-I thought…" Race hiccuped as he looked up at his big brother. The man who'd been a father to him for the past nine years. "I th-thought I was gonna lose you..." the boy admitted.

The hand in his hair brushed his curls. And Jack melted. "I'm right here, Tony… n' that's because of you… I ain't goin' nowhere… we're gonna get through this together, okay?"

There was so much sincerity in his brother's eyes. And all Race could do was believe him. "Okay…" he whispered. "I love you, Jackie…"

"I love you too, Racer… more than you could ever know…"

Race's life had never been perfect. In fact, it had been anything but.

But he had Jack. He had Charlie and Medda and Katherine and Davey and Jack.

He might never be able to accept what he'd done. But Jack would.

And maybe that would be enough.

Ohhhhhh this story. It was a time and a thrill to write even though it's so super sad.

Here is the original request:

1.) "You're okay. Breath. Just breath. Open your eyes. Come back. It's okay. It's over now. Your okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. I love you so much. Come back."

2.) "hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that."

3.) Would you kill to save a life

4.) Race is the focus ( sorry Race)

5.) Drake

Again, thank you so much SinfullySimple for this beautiful request! Much love to you!

I hope you're all staying safe and healthy and not bored. This whole shut down is inconvenient for the lot of us and it's a little scary, not gonna lie. But I hope you guys are handling it well and using this time to relax and take a breath.

Thank you all so much for following this story! I love you all so much!

As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!

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