#until he starts to quietly appreciate how it Always makes morris laugh

[noxexistant]

modern morris watches sesame street and oscar hates that he shares a name with oscar the grouch

[heliads]

Prince

Spot’s surprised to find that Brooklyn has a new newsie joining its ranks, a boy he calls Prince who came to his turf from Queens. The only problem is that there may be more to Prince than meets the eye, like the fact that he isn’t a boy but instead Jack Kelly’s sister who ran away from Manhattan.

masterlist

Spot stands at the outskirts of the main room of the lodging house, leaning idly against a wall. It’s been a long, hard day, and he wants nothing more than to go to bed and forget everything that happened. Despite his whole ‘King of Brooklyn’ reputation as a ruthless leader, people tend to forget that Spot’s still a teenager. His unfazed glare is just a facade; behind it, someone still struggles to grow up too fast in a world that needs him to do the work of five just to survive.

A voice shouts out from behind him. “Hey, Spot! Got someone new here. They think they want to sell papes with us.” Spot waves a hand at the approaching figure without looking. “We already got enough mouths to feed.” The voice shouts back. “This one can pay! They was a newsie from Queens, and they got the pennies to prove it.” This piques Spot’s interest, and he turns around to see Snaps, one of the many Brooklyn newsies, approaching. There’s another boy not far behind him.

Spot fixes the newcomer with a piercing gaze. To be honest, he’s not sure how he feels about this guy. He’s already got a newsie cap, but it’s pulled low over their forehead to hide their face. They don’t look Spot in the eyes, as if they’re afraid of something. Fear isn’t something Brooklyn newsies should even know about.

“Who are you, and why did you leave Queens to come to Brooklyn? Don’t you know we’re tougher than any of youse?” The boy just shrugs. “Queens got boring. Figured I wouldn’t have that problem here.” Spot stares for a moment longer, then breaks into a short laugh. “Okay, I like this kid. Welcome to Brooklyn.”

Spot gestures for the newcomer to follow him. “Come on. Bunks is in here. This one’s empty, that’ll work for you. You used to be a newsie in Queens, so I assume you know the rules. Get up and ready by the circulation bell. Sell your papes and don’t take no for an answer. You already eaten tonight?” The new boy nods, and Spot raps his knuckles distractedly against the bunk before starting to head out. “Stay up however late you want. The rest of us will head out in an hour or so.”

You’ve done it. You really just did it. You’re now a Brooklyn newsie. It had taken everything you had to go through with your plan, even though you’d been thinking it through for weeks. Get up with the other Manhattan newsies like usual, pretend you were just going through a normal day. When the other boys leave, you pack your bag, dress up like a boy, and head over to Brooklyn, making sure you’re not seen on the way there. You say you’re from Queens, they let you in. End of story.

Only, that’s not really the truth. Yes, you’d been a newsie before, but only barely. You were great at selling papes, that wasn’t the problem. No, the real obstacle standing between you and surviving on the streets of Manhattan was your brother. Jack Kelly. 

See, Jack seemed to have some sort of old-fashioned idea that girls couldn’t- or shouldn’t- sell papes. Every time you tried to head out with the other newsies, he’d stretch out an arm in front of you with that same skeptical look on his face. You can almost hear his voice now. “And where do you think you’re going?” You always said the same thing. “Out to sell papes like anyone else.” You had tried to argue that you had to support yourself in some way, that it wasn’t fair that the other Manhattan boys had to slave away on the streets while you just sat around all day, but Jack wouldn’t hear a word. He’d make you stay at the lodging house, off the streets and out of trouble, or at least according to him.

You knew that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he was just trying to protect you. Jack felt guilty that his own sister would have to be selling papes right beside him, and he figured that as long as you didn’t have to do the same exhausting work you would be fine. However, you were sick of it. You could sell papes just as well as him, and you were tired of being nothing more than an afterthought. That’s why you decided to run away to Brooklyn. It was the last place Jack would look for you, and it would finally give you a chance to sell papes and really earn your spot alongside the other newsies.

You think your disguise had worked, but you still stay up late until you’re sure all of the other Brooklyn newsies are asleep before slipping out of bed and out of the window to stand on one of the fire escapes. You pull off your newsboy cap, reaching up to remove every last pin tying your hair in place and carefully slipping them into your pocket. You run your hands through your hair, sighing in relief. There’s a bandage wrapping around your chest to make your figure seem like more of a boy’s, but you’re able to take that off from underneath your shirt, wrapping it idly around your hands.

You stare out at the Brooklyn skyline before you. It’s funny- it’s the same city as Manhattan, same area of land. Yet it looks so different. It seems to promise possibilities, a future where you’re finally able to step out of Jack’s ever looming shadow. It’s your turn now, your turn to live and dream just as fervently as you wish. You sigh quietly, peaceful at last, then tear your gaze away from the city and head back inside. You pull the threadbare blankets close around you, curling up for a night’s rest.

You get up early the next morning before everyone else, taking care to rewrap your chest and repin your hair before people can see you. You’re not sure how long your disguise will hold out, but hopefully long enough that people will trust you and look the other way if they see something odd about you.

Across the city, the circulation bell starts ringing. The other boys have woken up at this point, and you all confidently head towards the Brooklyn Newsies Square. You form a line with the rest of the newsies. As you reach the front of the line, though, your heart starts to pound with panic. Handing out the papes are none other than Oscar and Morris, the Delancey brothers! There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll recognize you. They knew the newsies, and they’ll know you. This is it- you haven’t even been here a day and your plan is already over.

You slap your quarter down in the box, asking for a set of 50 papers. Oscar starts to reach for the papes, then he turns and squints at you suspiciously. “Wait, you look familiar. You’re not from Brooklyn, but I’ve seen you before.” You find you can’t say anything, just look at him like a deer in headlights. What do you do now? 

You’re saved when the newsie who’d introduced you last night, Snaps, comes up behind you, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders. “That’s ‘cause this newbie came from Queens. You probably saw them there.” You nod, grateful when Oscar shrugs and turns away, handing you your papes with an expression that makes it clear that he could not care less about you.

You wait for Snaps to get his papes, that flash him an appreciative smile. “Thanks for that. Gotta say, the one thing I was hoping to leave behind in Queens was the Delanceys. Looks like I’m not that lucky.” Snaps just grins. “No one’s lucky enough to avoid the Delanceys. They’re like the flu- show up everywhere.”

Snaps turns to you with a sudden frown. “You know, I just realized that you don’t have a nickname.” You look at him, confused. “Do I need one?” Snaps throws his hands in the air. “Of course you do! Every newsie needs a nickname, even if they’re the King of Queens.” There’s a voice from behind you, and Spot walks up casually next to you. 

“Trying to name another newbie? Was the last failure not enough for you?” Snaps groans. “Listen, I’m great at naming people. What about- Kingsy? You know, King of Queens. Like I said.” You can’t help but laugh. “That’s awful. I’d rather just go back to Queens.” Spot nods. “I like the idea, though. What about Prince? It’s still related to Queens, but it’s a level down because there’s only one King in Brooklyn, and that’s me.”

You shrug. “I don’t think I’m going to get anything better, so that sounds alright with me.” You’ve started heading away from Newsies Square, and you realize you don’t have a street assignment. You glance over at Spot. “I thought you said I was going to be following someone so I knew where to sell.” He nods, unconcerned. “Yeah. You’se following me.” You must seem surprised, because he looks over at you and laughs. “Don’t get overwhelmed. I want to see how they’re teaching newsies to sell over in Queens.” You shrug. “Alright, but don’t expect to do that well yourself. I might just steal all your customers.” Snaps laughs at Spot’s mock glare. “I like Prince. We need somebody new to make fun of Spot.”

The newbie actually isn't that bad at selling papes. Sure, Prince might have come from Queens, but to be honest, Spot wasn’t expecting a whole lot. Yet there they are, shouting out embellished headlines like they’ve done it their whole lives. He hates to say it, but Spot might actually be impressed. Before he knows it, it’s the end of the day, and they’ve both sold all of their papes. 

That day soon ends, and then the next day, and the next. Spot finds himself actually appreciating Prince. He’s a nice guy, someone who knows when to joke around and when to sell papes and be serious. Before long, Spot realizes he trusts the guy like a second in command, asking him questions about how to make sure Brooklyn sells the most papes and how to keep his boys out of trouble. Prince opens up too, but only gradually. There’s something about that boy that makes Spot think he’s hiding something, maybe the real reason about why he left Queens.

It’s odd- every night, Prince stays up late until he thinks everyone’s fallen asleep, and then he silently gets up and heads out to stand on the balcony. He stays there for a while, maybe ten minutes, and then goes back inside and falls asleep. He gets up early in the mornings, too, repeating the same routine before anyone’s awake enough to see him. Spot doesn’t pay attention to what he does, making sure his eyes are always shut when Prince passes. Spot knows enough about bad memories of the past to know that sometimes boys needing solitude should be left alone and not watched.

About two months after Prince comes to Brooklyn, Spot finds himself standing frustratedly in the little closet of a room he likes to call his office. Jack Kelly, of all people, has come over to pay him a visit. To be honest, he doesn’t really want to have to deal with Kelly. Not today. Yet there the guy is, pacing back and forth in front of him. Spot shakes his head slightly, trying to focus back on the conversation again.

“Look, all I’m asking is if you’ve seen her at all.” Spot holds up a hand, trying to figure out what Kelly’s talking about. “Sorry, who is this? Your sister? You lost your sister?” Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Yeah, my sister. She’s a few months younger than you. I don’t know where she went or why she left, all I know is that she isn’t in ‘Hattan.” Spot raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “I can’t blame her. If I had to deal with you as a brother I’d probably leave too.”

At Jack’s glare, Spot rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t seen your sister.” Jack frowns, pursing his lips. “I’ve checked all the other turfs. You’re sure she isn’t here?” Spot fixes Jack with a glare. “Yes, I’m sure. No goils in Brooklyn, least of all Kelly goils.” Spot sees movement in the hall outside, and, desperate for an interruption from this boring conversation, starts to move towards the door. “Here, I’ll ask Prince, just in case. If I don’t know, Prince might.” Spot raises his voice. “Hey, Prince? Get in here.”

Prince, who had been just passing by the door, pops his head in. “Yeah? What’s up?” He casually strides in the room, talking with a relaxed attitude that, for some reason, disappears the second he sees Jack’s turned back. In fact, he seems to freeze in place, some strange fear suddenly appearing in his eyes. The panic’s only there for a moment, though, and it flickers and disappears from his face just as quickly as it came.

Spot gestures towards Jack. “Kelly lost his sister. Have you seen her anywhere?” Prince shakes his head. “No, haven’t seen any sisters. That all?” Spot waves him away, and Prince practically runs out of the room. Spot watches him go with a questioning look, but shakes it away and turns back to Jack. “Look, we don’t have your sister. Can you go back to ‘Hattan now?” Jack nods and leaves, but not before asking Spot to tell him if he sees his sister, Y/N, at all. 

Now that Kelly’s left, Spot turns to more pressing issues, mainly the sudden fear in Prince. When Spot leaves the room, he can’t see Prince anywhere, not in the main room or even in his bunk. There’s only one place he would be, the one place he seems to frequent when he’s worried- the roof.

You can’t believe it. Jack was here- really here. And he was looking for you! Of all the times to walk past Spot’s office, why’d you have to choose the one moment when your brother was there? Luckily enough, he seemed not to recognize you. Then, the ugly truth of that matter really hits you. He didn’t recognize you. The brother you’d spent your entire life with didn’t realize that you were standing before him if you were wearing a cap with your hair tucked up underneath it? Ridiculous.

You hear footsteps behind you and whirl around in a panic, your shoulders sinking with relief when you realize it’s only Spot. Spot, however, looks even more worried than he did back in that room with Jack. “You want to tell me what’s got you so nervous? I know it’s something with Jack, you might as well just say it.” Your head jerks up at that, but you try to play it off as if nothing happened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing with Jack.”

Spot folds his arms across his chest. “There is very much something with Jack. You practically passed out the second you saw him. What’s wrong?” You remain silent, and he takes a step towards you. “You can trust me, you know. You can tell me anything.” You look at him through nervous eyes. “Anything?” He nods. “Anything.”

Before you know it, your hands are fumbling for your cap at the top of your head, pulling it off and taking out the pins in one mad rush. You comb your fingers through your hair, then turn back to him, cap clutched in your hands. Spot looks stunned, but then he speaks. “He said he was looking for his-” You cut him off. “His sister. Yeah.” Spot seems shocked. “I thought you said you came from Queens?” You laugh awkwardly. “I, uh, lied about that. Figured it would be easier to pretend I was a nobody from some other turf than have to explain about everything.”

Spot furrows his brow, confused. “What is everything? I mean, Manhattan’s not an awful place. Why would you leave?” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair. “Manhattan was great. The problem was the people. Jack wouldn’t let me sell papes because he didn’t think a girl could do it as well, and he didn’t want me selling with the other boys. I left because I wanted a life of my own.” You let out a broken chuckle, one that seems to echo around the rooftop with the sadness of a thousand lifetimes. “He didn’t come here until two months later. He didn’t even recognize me. At the beginning, I wondered whether or not I was right in coming here, in leaving him, but I can see now that I was.” You look back up at Spot with eyes slightly darting towards frenzy. “He doesn’t care about me. I don’t think he does at all.”

Spot steps closer to you, taking your hands in his. “He’d be wrong to do that. You’re an amazing goil, and amazing at selling papes. If he doesn’t want you, then you’ve got a home with us.” You look back up at him, finally letting a soft smile spread across your face. “You mean it? You’re not going to make me go back?” Spot raises an eyebrow. “And let go of one of our best sellers? No way. I might tell him I saw you somewhere in a week or so, just to make him stop worrying, but I won’t say a word about where you are. You’re with us now.”

He glances at you, donning a slight smirk. “Does this mean we have to call you Princess instead of Prince?” You laugh at him, swatting him with your cap. “Absolutely not. I’ll go back to my disguise and everything. Life like normal, right?” He smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Life like normal. Only this time, you know I’ve got you.”

[fbdo1986]

idk the only fbdo prompt i can think of is cameron falls asleep on the couch so ferris and sloane have a contest to see how much random shit they can put on him before he wakes up. Besides that, the way you wrote cam & sloane’s 1st kiss was very good, how bout writing ferris and cam’s 1st kiss? Unless that’s gonna be in ur new fic of course. Anyway, i’ll be back if i can think of cuter prompts

yo anon… you’re the best!!!! how about i write both???!! it’s hard for me sometimes to write ferris/cam and i have no idea why?? but i’ll do it for you anon! and honestly i’m not too sure if my fic is gonna involve any kissing tbh! i kinda foster ideas as i go

okay! since i am incapable of putting this one in the same timeline of my sloane/cam fic heres one that goes post the fic im working on, which is an interpretation of that fateful day off! (it’s probably a few days after or so)

warning: slight mention of ab*se bc like. cameron’s dad exists

ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY!

Cameron narrowly escapes to his room, his hands shakily pressing the button to dial up the Bueller residence. He was high of pure adrenaline, and unfortunately, fear. The spiel about how ‘he wouldn’t be pushed around any longer, and seriously doesn’t a teenager deserve to have a life of his own? and how he’s done nothing except nearly exhaust himself to make the man proud and he doesn’t even notice!?’ actually takes old Morris Frye by surprise, and in a good way. He ruffles Cameron’s hair and goes on about how for the longest time he’s been waiting for his son to become a man, and how maybe, he’s proud of Cam. That is, until he realizes Cameron’s mentioned the car. Then all bets are off. It starts with a loud bellowing yell and Cameron can sense it’s only gonna escalate from here. Quickly, Morris is inching his way closer to Cameron and even though Cam is giving an explanation as quickly as words can exit his mouth to try and derail his father, it’s no use for the man who loves his car more than his own family. The man is seeing red, the red of that precious 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that tumbled to its death from the garage. And Cameron needs to get out of there before he gets any closer. 

So he makes it to his bedroom, and the immediate response is Ferris. There’s no one who can save him like the boy who can get out of trouble in any situation. The line rings and he hears the familiar, moody hello of Jeanie Bueller. “Hey, it’s Cameron. Can you put Ferris on, please?” His voice wavers, and Jeanie immediately understands. Cameron won’t lose it, not like how he used to, but these things build up. 

“Ferris! It’s Cameron!” Jeanie yells, and Mrs. Bueller asks if everything’s alright. Jeanie keeps silent, letting Ferris spill if he decides to.

Ferris has something inside of him that is fine tuned to discussions of Cameron or Sloane. This shout isn’t typical Jeanie tone, and immediate sirens begin to blare in his ears. From across the house he’s at the phone in the hall, immediately replacing Jeanie at the line. “Hey, what’s up?” He keeps his voice light. Maybe it’s nothing. 

“Fer, I need an out. My old man is gonna kill me for this car. I mean it. He’ll find a way to give me hell. If it was his way I’d never come back.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding in. “Please.”

At this point, Ferris has nearly bitten the inside of his cheek raw. He suddenly regrets all the things he’s ever done to put Cameron at risk of being hurt by his old man. Sure, he did think taking the car out was good for Cameron—he always wished Cameron could loosen up and fully enjoy what good things happened to him—but he could’ve never imagined the state it’d be in by the end of the day. He meant it when he said he’d take the heat for this, and he still does. It kills him to know his foolishness could cost Cameron harm. Ever since Ferris Bueller understood just how horrible things get in Cameron’s house he immediately knew he’d always be there for him. It takes a little longer to realize the reverse is true, that he’d be complete and utterly lost without Cameron, and that he needs him to stay sane. He won’t let that show in his words or his tone. He’s gotta be strong right now because that is what Cameron needs.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get you out of there.” He covers the receiver. “Jeanie, can I use your car?” A silent nod of understanding from his sister. Mrs. Bueller is insisting to take care of it, she’s always liked Cameron, but Ferris wants it all under his control. “I’ll be there soon, alright?” He asks Cameron, hoping he doesn’t know that he’s keeping his voice from shaking. At least he can’t see his hands.

A deep breath. “Thank you, Ferris. Seriously. You don’t understand how much I appreciate this.” Cameron always knows that Ferris is and always will be there for him, but he’s always grateful when he steps up for things like this. 

Like lightning after Jeanie gives him the keys, Ferris races out of his house and hops into his sister’s car. Ferris is thankful for his driver’s license despite his absence of a car. And he’s thankful for Jeanie at this moment, too. And most importantly, for Cameron. He fights every urge to completely speed over there, since he’d never forgive himself for getting a speeding ticket on the way to his best friend’s house. When he gets to Cameron’s he makes his way to Cameron’s window. He’s willing to risk heat from Morris for sneaking Cameron out, and if the man even thinks he’s getting at Cameron for this he’s sorely mistaken. Has Ferris ever fought anyone? Absolutely not, but Morris Frye deserves to have a taste of his own medicine for once in his life. Ferris raps on the window as quietly as he can, his eyes lighting up immediately when Cameron turns to face him. 

Cameron fights a loud, enthusiastic expression of gratitude, but his sentiments remain. “G-d bless Ferris Bueller.” Ferris simply grins. But his eyes widen with concern when he remembers why he’s here. “Wait, Cam. Are you hurt? Did that son of a bitch—” Ferris can’t stop himself from grabbing at Cameron’s arms and getting a bit too close to look at his face.

Cameron chuckles, swatting him away. “I’m fine, Fer. Quit breathing on me. But seriously, I’m alright.” He looks at Ferris, the absolute goof of a best friend right in front of him. Despite his cool exterior, he really does wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s thankful that all those threats that he’d find a new best friend were never serious. Cameron almost embraces him. Almost. He settles for a shared smile. 

“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.” Ferris rocks back onto his heels and Cameron swiftly stands up from his bed. They get out through the window and shut it tight. 

The ride to Ferris’s is awkward. Ferris wants nothing more than to crack a joke and relieve this tension, but he doesn’t want to disrespect what’s just happened to Cameron. The radio is on low, playing the current hits. When they reach the Bueller’s Cameron is bombarded with concerned but sweet proddings from Mrs. Bueller and a comforting look from Jeanie. Cameron feels a bit lighter already, but he only feels like he can fully breathe once they’re in Ferris’ room. The Cars are softly playing from Ferris’s stereo while Cameron flops directly onto the bed and Ferris sits next to him. 

“Jesus Christ.” Cameron’s voice is muffled against the comforter, and he slowly turns to face up and look at the ceiling. “I hate this. I can’t believe I have to run away to solve my problems.”

“To be fair, you’re not running away. You’re literally 10 miles away from your house. Plus, I helped you escape.” Ferris leans back on his palms and looks at the ceiling too. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t done it sooner. I wouldn’t last a day there. I don’t know how you do it. Fuck what Morris says, Cam, you’re the bravest man I know.” He breathes out a sigh and wishes he could say more. 

Cameron shifts and turns to Ferris for a moment. “No way, man. That’s you.” They exchange a glance. Despite being friends for seven years, words like these don’t get shared often between them. “Thank you. Again. Not even just for this, Fer.” He looks at Ferris intensely. “My life outside of that house is what it is because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

Ferris averts his gaze, but a smile plays on his lips for a moment. He pauses and draws out the phrase, “You, my love, are worth it all.” 

Cameron’s face is immediately drowned in heat. He doesn’t know why this is so significant but all he feels is his heartbeat in his throat and he can’t help but sit up, dumbfounded. He looks at Ferris and there’s nothing that can convince him the boy was joking. Ferris, inversely, however, is turning pale. 

“What?” That’s all that escapes Cameron’s mouth, but it’s not upset or repulsed. Only curious. 

“Look, Cam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it and it just slipped out and you’re just great, okay? That’s it. You’re just great, the problem is how great you are.” The words slip out so fast Cameron is just barely hanging on. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re fantastic. You’re everything I could ask in a friend and more and I’ve just been thinking it over for a few days and I’m so sorry I ever jeopardized your safety. I need you and all of this wouldn’t even matter if it wasn’t for you, Cameron.” His eyes, deep with worry and passion all at once meet Cameron’s. And without a second thought Ferris’s hands are cupping his face and he presses a kiss into Cameron’s lips. Cameron’s caught off guard, insanely surprised, but as his heartbeat slows he can hear Ferris’s breath in an exhale and Cameron presses a kiss back into Ferris. Cameron smiles and after a moment Ferris parts from the kiss and looks up at his best friend. 

“Didn’t mean shit, Bueller.” Cameron laughs and all of a sudden the light is back in Ferris’s eyes and Ferris can’t think of anything to do but tackle Cameron in a hug. It knocks Cameron’s lanky frame over, but they just lay there and continue to laugh.

[dont-sneeze]

~Unlovable Chapter 2~

Chapter 2/?????

•Find Chapter One here

After about five minutes of knowing Jack, Crutchie had butterflys in his stomach whenever he was around him, but he didn’t realize why until about 10 months later. At first, he just thought these butterfly’s were caused by the fact that he was accepted for who he was, and not judged for his disability. That might have been part of it, but it wasn’t all. No, not even close.

Jack had wanted to take him up there sooner, but Medda told Jack the same rules applied for Crutchie in this house, no one up on the roof until they turn twelve. Jack pouted, and when he complained, he got an extra few chores to do around the house, and still no permission to take Crutchie up. Medda was amazing, but she knew what rules were and made sure the six boys she cared for would follow them. Really, the chores were cake, and Medda made sure to give him ones he was able to easily do, like dust the house, set the table, or even help with dinner some times. It was a huge improvement from his previous home, and so he would take these chores any day.

“Come on, Crutch, let’s go.” Jack smiled, and pulled on Crutchie’s arm once the birthday party had settled down. “I wanna show you something amazing.”

It was amazing. The sun was just setting and the sky was painted beauitiful shaes or red and orange and purple. The two stood there just looking, until the sunset was over and the sky was darker.

Once Jack made sure Crutchie was safely sitting on the roof, he began telling Crutchie about this place, clear out west in the state of New Mexico. “No one cares about your past out there, Crutch…” Jack said, gazing out into the New York skyline. While they didn’t live in New York City, they lived close enough that they could almost reach out and touch the skyline if they wanted to. “No one cares that my dad was awful to me, no one cares about no gimp leg…” Jack smiled gently, and then looked at Crutchie, that same smile on his face.

And in that moment, Crutchie knew. He had a crush on Jack Kelly. And a big one by the looks of it. Not that anything would ever come of it though.

Crutchie Morris always looked on the positive side, even now. He knew that his crush was silly, and he reminded himself that he was very lucky to have a friend like Jack. Besides, they were practically brothers. (AN: I accidentally wrote property brothers there. What is my life?)

Crutchie smiled back, and leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder once Jack threw his arm around Crutchie’s shoulder. Yeah, if this was what he got, he would take it in a heart beat.

—————

It took Jack almost three and a half years to realize what the heck these feelings toward his foster brother were.

They were in school, their freshman year of high school to be exact, and Jack was walking down the hall during class time when he saw Crutchie’s crutch in the trash can. “What…?” He whispered, pulling it out. Jack looked down near the bottom of the wood where Crutchie’s name was carefully carved into it, something Jack did himself once Crutchie asked him to.

Putting the crutch under his arm, he took off towards the class Crutchie was currently in, a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Jack was informed that Crutchie hadn’t shown up to class, and got even more worried than he was before. Where was he?

Jack skipped his next class in search for his brother. He had to have looked in every hallway and empty classroom there was. But finally, he found him, curled into a corner, almost shaking.

His back was to Jack, so softly, not wanting to scare him, Jack whispered his name.

Crutchie looked up, relief coming over his little features. “Jack…?” His eyes windings when he saw the crutch. “Where did you get that?”

Jack set it down besides Crutchie. “I found it in the trash can by the art room.” Jack replied with concern. “Why? Did you put it there?”

“No.” Crutchie confirmed what Jack already knew.

“Who did?” Jack was pressing for information, but kept his voice soft, wanting to comfort Crutchie.

“Doesn’t matter.” Crutchie mumbled, taking the crutch in his hand and carefully standing up. “Let’s just get back to class.”

Jack shook his head and put a hand on Crutchie’s shoulder. “Who was awful enough to steal your crutch and put it in the trash half away across the school?”

Looking back at the ground, he mumbled a name. “The Delanceys.”

Jack almost growled. “Did they hurt you?”

Crutchie didn’t respond, knowing lying to Jack wasn’t an option, but he didn’t want Jack to know the answer.

“Crutch. Did. They. Hurt. You.” Jack almost demanded.

Slowly Crutchie nodded. “A little.. they were just pushin’ me around. That’s all.”

Jack shook his head, angry. “When I get my hands on those boys…”

“Jack, no!” Crutchie reached out and grabbed Jack’s sleeve. “Just… please just let it go. I wanna go back to class.” Crutchie should have known that when Jack nodded, he would only let it go temporarily.

“‘Ey, Davey, Les Specs, Race!” Jack called to the other boys currently living there when the two walked into the house after walking home from the detention they had from slipping class. “Come in here we need to talk about somethin’.”

The four boys all shuffled into the living room. All of them, including Crutchie were confused about what Jack had to talk about. They just had a family meeting the other night.

Jack, having grown several inches taller than Crutchie in the last few years, put his hands on Crutchie’s shoulders. “Today, I learned that a certain pair of brothers have been pushing Crutchie around lately. So we need to figure out how to stop it.”

All four boys eyes widened.

Crutchie piped up. “Jack, that’s not-”

“So, we gotta find a way to teach them not to mess with him, yeah?” Jack cut in, basically ignoring Crutchie’s comment.

“Jack… it’s fine.”

“Let’s soak ‘um!” Race said, lifting a fist in the air.

“No, let’s not, fighting will only get us expelled.” Davey replied.

“Good thinking Davey.” Jack grinned. “None of us want that.”

“Speak for yourself.” Race grumbled.

All of the boys, minus Crutchie, started to come up with a plan to help him. But Crutchie didn’t want their help.

“You guys…”

No one heard him.

“Guys.” He tried louder, but still no reaction.

“Guys stop it!” Crutchie finally almost yelled. That got their attention. Crutchie hardly ever raised his voice, especially at them. “Listen, I appreciate it but I don’t need your help. I’m not just some useless Crip, okay? I can handle myself just fine. I always have and always will. Just leave it alone.”

And with that, he limped into his room that he still shared with Jack, and shut the door quietly behind him. Flopping down on his bed, Crutchie pulled the covers up past his head, and he began to quietly cry. He didn’t ever really cry, but when he did, it was hard and the tears never seemed to end.

He didn’t know how long it had been when Jack knocked on the door and slowly entered the room. It could have been minutes or hours. Either way, tears still slowly rolled down Crutchie’s face and there was no way that he was ever letting Jack see them. So he stayed curled up in his blanket cocoon.

“Hey kid, can I talk to you?” Jack asked, and Crutchie felt Jack sit on his bed next to him. When he didn’t get an answer, Jack started talking, because that’s what Jack does. “Listen. I know you can make it on your own. I know that you can. I don’t think you’re useless. I didn’t mean for you to take it that way.”

“Then why are you so insistent on helping me.” Crutchie whispered back.

“Because I care about you, Crutch! We all do. I want to see you happy and safe. I want to do everything I can to make sure you’re always smiling that heart melting smile of yours…” Jack waited for a response, but when he didn’t get one, he took a deep breath and continued. “Listen. I know you can make it on your own. But I also know what it’s like to be stubborn and refuse to open up to anyone, to not let anyone help. Let me tell you from personal experience, once you do, you’ll feel more wanted and loved then you ever have before, and things get easier to deal with. I promise. When I was put here, I never opened up about my emotions at all. I was usually pretty fine, not happy, not sad, just normal. But then one day… well,one of my old roommates, Finch? Well, he got adopted. Normally that wouldn’t have made me so upset, but he got adopted by the family who took me in before they took Finch in. They put me back here, took Finch with him when they left, and they kept him. I was happy for Finch, they were nice folks, but I was upset they didn’t take me. And you know what I did with my councilor that week? Instead of making light conversation like usual, I exploded. I had to tell someone what I was feeling. I knew during it that she would send me to someone else because she couldn’t handle me, but you know what she did?” Jack paused to laugh. “She actually helped me. She told me that’s what she was there for, to help me. To let me rant about my troubles and problems and she gave me some great advice. Medda said I went into that room with steam coming out of my head and walked out of there with a smile that she had never seen on me before. It felt good to let someone else help me, Crutch.”

Crutchie didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. Jack shook his head, thinking he fell asleep. Right before Jack was about to stand up and leave, Crutchie sat up very slowly, and as soon as Jack saw his tear streaked face, he pulled him close, his heart feeling like it was shattering.

He made Crutchie cry, which was the last thing he wanted. “No, no. Crutch, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m so sorry.”

Crutchie shook his head, pressing his head against Jack’s chest. He hated crying, and so far had did a good job on only crying once in front of Jack, and that was from physical pain. This was different. “Jack.” Crutchie whispered, taking a deep, shaky breath. It felt good to be this close to someone who he actually cared about, and who cared about him.

They readjusted themselves so that Jack was leaning against the wall and Crutchie was in his lap, his head leaning against Jack’s chest. Crutchie continued to cry as Jack rubbed his back, wanting to comfort him.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack barely heard it, the voice was so tired and quiet and breathy. But he did hear it, and in that moment, he knew. It just clicked in his brain. He knew his feelings were more than just an over protective brother. He wanted to make sure Crutchie was safe at all costs and would give up his life if that meant saving Crutchie’s. He realized what was important to him. Not Santa Fe, not being adopted, but really, he knew that as long as Crutchie was there smiling his smile that seemed to spread like butter, everything would be okay.

“I’m sorry I got upset. I’m just so used to being on my own and handiling my own problems and… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jack tilted up Crutchie’s head and kissed his forhead tenderly.

Crutchie’s heart began speeding up, which freaked him out because his chest was against Jack’s and he knew there was no possible way Jack couldn’t feel it beating so quickly.

Crutchie didn’t realize that Jack’s own heart was beating so fast that he didn’t even notice Crutchie’s.

It wasn’t the kiss they wanted, but it was what Jack had, and that was more than Crutchie could ask for.

The two stayed like that for another immeasurable amount of time when Medda came by, to talk to them about the detention they received. She was going to be all lecturey, but when she saw the venerable position her boys were currently in, she divided to drop the lecture. “Wanna tell me what happened?” She sat down on Crutchie’s desk chair, facing the boys. After a moment, Jack looked down.

“Crutchie’s…” Jack sighed when he saw Crutchie squeeze his eyes tighter. “Crutchie fell…” he lied. Jack didn’t like lying, but he knew Crutchie didn’t want him telling her.

“He fell, and that made you both skip class?” She questioned.

“Well..”

Crutchie shook his head. “Just tell her, Jack.” Medda would find out sooner or later, and he didn’t want to get Jack in trouble for lying.

“You sure?” Jack ran his fingers through Crutchie’s hair. When a nod confirmed his question, Jack sighed deeply once more. “Crutchie’s been being picked on at school. And the thugs took his crutch all the way across the school. When I found the crutch I skipped class to go find Crutchie. It took a while, but I finally found him in a corner that they shoved him into.”

Medda thought this over for a moment before replying. “Jack, I’m glad you’re looking out for him, but you should have told the front office. They would have taken care of it and you could have went back to class.”

Jack snorted, and Crutchie pulled himself closer to Jack, if that was even possible. Neither liked that idea. “Yeah, because Crutchie really would have appreciated all the attention that would have given him.” Jack pointed out.

Medda sighed. “And what does Crutchie think?”

“If…” Crutchie swallowed, still not looking at Medda. “If someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own, they’ll throw me into the school for problem kids who have to be watched every second.” His voice was shaking at the thought and Jack comfortingly rubbed his back. “I don’t wanna go there, Miss Medda…”

Medda sighed deeply, knowing that was the last thing any of them wanted. “Alright, but you boys are still in trouble. Rules are rules, and you know that if you get detention in any way, you have to take on another boy’s chores for three days.”

Jack’s face fell. “Alright, fair enough.”

“But Jack? I am proud of you for watching out and sticking up for him.” And with that, Medda stood up and left, leaving the two boys alone.

Alone.

Back to their feelings.

“Thank you. So much Jack.” Crutchie finally said, and moved so he could look up. “You really are the best friend I could ever ask for.” His own tears streaked down his face, and before they knew it, the two had fallen asleep, holding onto each other like if they didn’t, the other would disappear right out of their arms.

[deafwestnewsies]

Camp Larkin

chp 3 - blink looooves mush

cross-posted to my ao3! 

The main group was focused around the firepit placed in the middle of the square, where a group of boys were each holding a hand of cards. A girl stood outside the group talking to a boy with an eyepatch, rolling her eyes and popping her gum. Every once and while, a large “Oh!” would erupt from the group and it would go back to slightly tense silence. Sarah zeroed in on the girl, walking toward her. Davey dragged his foot slightly before hesitantly following her.

“Hi!” Sarah smiled brightly. “I was wondering if you knew when orientation is going to start?” The girl looked her up and down for a second, before splitting into a warm grin.

“We’ll probably start in about fifteen minutes, we’re still waiting on a couple people,” She looked around at the group of boys, tallying them up in her head. “Two of them, actually.” She peered behind Sarah, and shot Davey a quick smile. “I don’t think I caught your guy’s name?”

Sarah flipped her hair behind her shoulder, and Davey suddenly realized what was happening. He sighed and let his shoulders sag as Sarah said her name and what she would be working as all summer. Of course Sarah had taken a liking to the one other girl at camp who seemed smart, powerful, and everything else Sarah was.

“David?” Sarah asked, nudging his arm and pulling him out of his thoughts.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “David,” he stuck out his hand. “I’m the newspaper staff and creative writing counselor.” The girl widened her eyes for a second and smiled slowly.

“Kath.” She said, taking his hand and shaking it with the rigor he expected from a girl like her. “Though you should call me Ace in front of the kids. I’m the theatre counselor.” Davey smiled awkwardly.

“Why did you look at me like that when I said I’ll be running the newspaper?” He spat out. Sarah scoffed, elbowing him for being rude.

Kath laughed, trying to seem casual as she touched Sarah’s arm. “It’s nothing bad! It’s just that… the newspaper kids are a small and elite group. Not many campers want to spend their days inside, using our old printing press.”

This caught Davey’s attention. “A printing press? Like, a real one?” Kath nodded her head, and Davey fell back into the daydream he was in before. A real printing press. Davey had been interested in journalism and writing ever since he could remember. There was home film following Davey toddling around the house with a learning pencil and a piece of paper clenched in his fists, blathering on about things only he understood. In the third grade, he had won a creative writing contest that spurred him on to begin his first great novel, which was abandoned for the Harry Potter books four days later. Ten years later, Davey had finished high school with an A in his AP Literature class and an acceptance letter to Columbia University, where he would be surrounded by people just like him. He had never had the opportunity to try a printing press, and he was already fascinated. When he came out of the trance, Kath had pulled Sarah away and they were talking over by the coffee shop.

He sighed, knowing his only option was to go talk to the group of boys playing cards. Davey slowly started to make his way over to them, but the loud blowing of a whistle saved him. His head snapped up to focus on two boys, dressed in matching t-shirts and khaki pants.

“Alright, dipweeds. Head over to the Dove House, where we’re gonna start orientation. Five minutes.” Davey raised his eyebrows at the rude announcement, but looked at the map pasted on the side of the coffee shop. He started walking in the direction it pointed them in, before another voice broke through the quiet chatter.

“Who let the rats be in charge this year?” A boy called out, and chuckles were let out by the other boys. Medda came out of the building next to the coffee shop, and raised her hand, quieting the laughter.

“While I’d appreciate you not calling Oscar and Morris rats, Mr. DeJesus, I’d also love to refrain from calling your fellow counselors ‘dipweeds,’ Mr. Delancy.” She shot the boy who had made the rat comment a look, where he ducked his head in embarrassment. “Now, please head up to the Dove House! We’re still waiting on,” She scanned the crowd and frowned. “Jack and Anthony, but they know everything anyways.” As Davey walked with the crowd of people, he heard bits of conversation.

“They’re always late.”

“Dude, Jack graduated yesterday. He was probably packing when Tony pulled up.”

“Jack graduated? What a feat!”

“The bigger question begs, how did Nico finish high school still single?”

After that comment, someone got pushed over by the boy who had made the ‘rat’ comment. There was some slight roughhousing, but he finally realized they were in front of what could only be described as a cabin meant to hold five hundred people. They all crowded into a small lobby with a foldable table and began to look at the multitude of papers before heading into the main area. Davey was one of the last ones to see everything, alongside the boy with the eyepatch. He looked at up at Davey and smiled quickly before turning back. Davey nodded slightly, but began reading the first clipboard. ‘Cabin Assignments. Cabin A: All boys. Cabin B: All girls.’

He cocked his head slightly, confused. “Did… Did I read this right?” The boy glanced at the form, and chuckled.

“Yep. The boy’s cabin holds almost all of the recreational staff, because it’s huge. Used to be the original meeting hall, then this one is built. The girl’s cabin is normal, but it was built in a weird and secluded area, so it can’t be used for campers.” The kid nodded and looked at Davey again, realizing that he didn’t know him. “Who’re you?”

Davey awkwardly held out his hand, and the kid took it. “David. Jacobs.”

“I’m Blink. Well, my actual name is Andy, but I’m trying to break back into my camp nickname.” Davey widened his eyes incredulously, and Blink laughed again. “And no, it’s not because of my eyepatch. The only one like that is Crutchie. And we’re pretty sure he gave it to himself.”

Davey nodded, clearing his throat. He stood awkwardly for a moment until Blink laughed for the third time, making Davey incredibly self-conscious. “You don’t get around much, do you?”

Rolling his eyes, Davey scoffed. “How can you say-” He stopped once he saw Blink giving him a pointed look, and let his shoulders sag. “Is it that obvious?”

Blink smiled and nodded, clapping Davey on the shoulder. “We’re going to make you some friends, David.”

“Well, I’ve already met some people-” Blink stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“Who?”

“Um… Crutchie, and Kath- Ace, Medda… Mush,” Davey tried to rack his brains for other names before Blink cut him off.  Again.

“Mush?” He asked, brightening a small bit. “I love him!”

Davey laughed slightly but stopped once Blink kept smiling. “Oh. You like, really-?”

The smile suddenly vanished from his face, replaced with a very serious look. “He’s my boyfriend. Got a problem with that?”

Davey started to sputter, taken aback. “W-What? No! I don’t- I wouldn’t- My sister and so many of my friends are- Homophobes are gross!” Blink visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging.

“Good. Because the rats are homophobic, and that about as much hate as we can handle here. We’re all pretty much on the spectrum here.” Blink said casually, turning back to the papers.

“I assumed so,” Davey answered, “When the website said this camp was LGBTQA+ friendly. Which seemed like a strange thing to put on a camp website.”

Blink nodded, not looking up. “Yeah. It’s cause a lot of the kids that come here are kids that Medda helps during the school year, and they get a lot of shit at home.”

“Oh.” Davey spoke quietly. They sat in silence for a second until the cabin door slammed open and two boys walked in.

Davey was pretty sure that his jaw literally dropped when he looked up and laid eyes on the boy with the muscle tee and khaki pants. This boy had a jawline that could cut him into pieces, the most beautiful golden-brown eyes Davey had ever seen, and arms that seemed to have more muscle than what was in his entire body. Overall, this boy could probably get Davey into bed. Which was a major twist in Davey’s summer plans.

i’m calling every1 a dipweed from now on