Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jack Kelly burned bright—David had never met anyone so dazzling. If Jack was burning and sparking, then Davey was a moth drawn to a flame or a foolish wooden Pinocchio or Icarus flying too close to the sun. He could never seem to get enough of Jack, hardly ever strayed from his side as long as he could help it—he’d always known it was a bad idea, that he shouldn’t let himself get too close, but keeping his distance was easier said than done.

Such thoughts flitted across his mind as he watched Jack bound up his fire escape. Jack made it difficult to guard his heart when he was always coming around. Davey leaned out the window, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “Hiya Jack. Ya here to see Sarah?” 

That’s the problem with moths—with Icarus—neither the flame nor the sun loves them back. And yet, towards the burning inferno, they race nevertheless.

Jack finally made it up the last step and now stood in front of him. His brow furrowed a bit, though his mouth quirked up in one of his typical smirks. “Not today. I’se here to see you, Davey.” 

Even as Davey reminded himself he shouldn’t, his heart seized the opportunity, as though it actually meant something. He forced himself not to smile too wide, pulse quickening in a way it had no right to. 

Jack isn’t yours. Even if he weren’t your sister’s fella, you know it’s not possible , David reprimanded himself logically, keenly aware that his dreams could never be a reality. Mustn’t be. 

That didn’t stop his heart from galloping wildly in his chest or his running mouth from playfully replying, “Whaddya need to see me for?” 

Jack bent at the waist to languidly lean closer to Davey, resting his arms on the window sill. His eyes danced with fondness and mischief as he challenged, “Geez, Dave, ya already sick o’ me or what? You’se my friend, don’t need no more of a reason than that.” David briefly wondered if Jack had any idea the effect the close proximity was having on him; whereas the cool night air had, moments ago, been nipping at his face and his arms, now Jack’s warm breath and his arms resting so casually against Davey’s had him feeling several degrees warmer. 

He quickly discounted the notion—Jack couldn’t possibly fathom the degenerate thoughts that seemed to run through his mind constantly whenever they were together (and often, even when they were apart). At least, he desperately hoped that Jack was oblivious. Because if he somehow knew …if he could sense Davey’s weakness, see past his front of the ‘ordinary boy’...that could lead to ruin in a multitude of ways. 

It was then that David realized he’d been silent for longer than he meant to and he felt his cheeks flush as he met Jack’s eyes once more. He laughed a touch awkwardly. “Right, well, never had many friends before, did I? …Why don’tcha come inside?”

Jack, as charismatic as ever, ignored the self-deprecating comment in favor of stepping back, standing upright, placing his hands behind his head casually. Davey immediately missed his warmth. “Nah, I’se fine out here. Fresh air.”

“Right, because New York air is so fresh.” Davey shot back sarcastically. He was satisfyingly rewarded with a peal of laughter, the sound blooming something warm and light in his chest. “Jackie, we work outdoors all day, just come inside and—” 

“Jack’s here!” Les’s voice rang from inside the apartment. Davey glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Les dashing into the room and Sarah perking up from where she had been stitching something up in the living room. His shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment. 

The tiny, precious bubble that Davey and Jack had been bantering inside of shattered as Les stumbled to a stop beside his brother. “Jack, Jack, are ya stayin’ for dinner tonight? Please say yes, ya gotta!”

Davey couldn’t help but take a step back as Sarah joined them by the window, with a gentle, persuasive, “Yeah, Jack, I’m sure Ma and Pa wouldn’t mind.” 

Jack had a way of making Davey forget the rest of the world, but it was at times like these that he was painfully aware of the true order of things. Maybe Jack was giving him the time of the day right now, but that was because they were friends and deep down David knew that he would always be second best to someone else. Worse, it was his own sister.

He managed to swallow his discontent as he heard Jack say, “Sorry, I can’t stay long t’night, some other time, promise.” Davey’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as Jack leaned forward to kiss Sarah’s cheek. 

He needed these feelings to go away, or else they’d be the death of him. 

“Gotta go set the table. See you tomorrow, Jack.” Davey murmured, deciding it best to remove himself from this equation. Jack nodded, though if Davey didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought he looked disappointed. Maybe even worried. But David did know better so he dismissed the fleeting expression as a figment of his imagination. 

“See ya, Davey.”

His siblings’ and Jack’s conversation continued to buzz in the background as Davey retreated to the kitchen to help his mother set the table. As he laid down utensils by each plate, he thought, Stay strong. I’ve gotta stay strong. 

Esther glanced at her son as she began serving the meal. “Everything alright, David? You seem…troubled. More so than usual, that is.” 

Davey startled slightly at his mother’s concern and pasted a reassuring smile on his face. “’m fine, Ma. I’m just hungry for dinner, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie. Now that he thought about it, he sure was hungry—he hadn’t eaten very much breakfast so that Les could have more. 

Thankfully, Esther accepted this answer and her only further comment was, “Well, eat up then, darling, we can’t have you going hungry.” Davey nodded his agreement as his mother called his father and siblings to the table. 

Once his siblings had come away from the window (presumably, Jack left) and the family was seated and had recited a brief blessing, they dug into the food—Les with as much enthusiasm as ever, David forcing himself not to eat too fast, Sarah smiling softly, Mayer looking pensive, and Esther glancing around the table fondly. 

“Boys,” Mayer began, “you’ll be going back to school soon, alright? A few weeks, hopefully. I just need to sort some things out with work and then you both can continue your studies.” 

Davey froze, spoonful of soup already halfway to his mouth. 

Sarah laughed softly at her brother’s dumbfounded expression. “What? Aren’t ya happy, David? You love school.” 

Davey brought the spoon the rest of the way to his mouth and swallowed. He shrugged. “Sure, it’ll be great.” he murmured, not meeting anybody’s eyes. 

The truth was a little more complicated than that—sure, he loved learning and enjoyed the pride of being praised by his teachers, but it was difficult for him to connect with his classmates. Whenever he tried to engage with his fellow schoolboys, they never seemed very interested in what he had to say about philosophy or astronomy or history. They much preferred roughhousing or making crass comments about girls or talking about what they’d gotten for Christmas. None of them gave the time of day to David Jacobs, who withdrew whenever someone he didn’t know so well touched him, who sometimes got overwhelmed by specific sounds, who never talked about girls at all, who only rarely saw gelt during Hanukkah, who all but disappeared when it was time to change for PE. 

It was like his classmates sensed he was a fraud. Some had the courtesy to just forget him entirely. Others were less kind.

So, David Jacobs was not thrilled at the prospect of returning to school. He half wished he could just complete his schoolwork at home and keep selling with the newsies who’d made him feel more welcomed than he ever had at school.

Sarah gave him a strange look, clearly having caught on to his lukewarm reaction, but before she could bring it up, Les cut in with a whining, “But, Pa, sellin’ with Jack an’ the boys is so much more fun than borin’ school! Ya can’t make us go back! No way!”

Mayer rolled his eyes. “The way you’re talking is exactly the reason you need to go back. Who’ll take you seriously in life, talking like that?” 

“Now, now, no need to be insulting, dear.” Esther mediated. “You kids can still sell the evening paper, of course.” 

Davey knew that meant We still need you to sell the evening pape . 

He mustered up a smile and ruffled Les’s hair. “See, Les? The best of both worlds.”

His brother pouted. “Gee, Davey, can’t ya put up more of a fight?”

David smirked in response. “Nah, I love school, remember?” he retorted wittily. “And you will too when ya get to see all your old friends again.” (Unlike Davey, Les seemed to be popular no matter where he went.)

Les didn’t seem convinced. “Whatever.” 

The conversation lulled for a bit until Sarah smiled softly to herself and mused aloud, “With the both of you back in school, maybe Jack will come ’round more often.”

Les perked up at this and David was glad it made his brother happy because it sure soured his own mood, as did Les’s next excited comment, “Yeah! Yeah! That’d be real swell, ’cause then ya can get married faster and Cowboy’ll be a real part o’ the family!”

Sarah’s cheeks reddened at that and she covered her face with her hands. “Les!” she exclaimed, clearly at a loss for any other words. 

Esther chuckled, obviously amused by the exchange, while Mayer’s eyes widened in surprise and he visibly battled with his feelings on the matter. 

Davey, for his part, forced a smile, trying to convince himself it was funny, when really it just made him feel sick, chasing his previously ravenous appetite away. I can hardly deal with Jack being her fella, if he was her husband…

He quickly banished the thought—he would cross that painful bridge if and when he got there.

Chapter Text

The next morning, David wasn’t in the best of moods, all told. Hadn’t been since the moment he woke up. He had partially taken it out on Les, snapping at him to hurry up on their way out the door. Now he regretted it. It really wasn’t Les’s fault at all. As usual he would just have to bury this feeling and try not to think about the reason behind it. Admittedly, that was easier said than done.

He and Les approached the circulation gate, getting in line behind Crutchie. It seemed like they were all rather early for once, as there were only a handful of other newsies around. Guess Davey didn’t have any reason to get angry at Les in the first place.

“Hey, Davey.” Crutchie greeted cheerfully, shifting slightly to face them better. “How’s it goin’?” 

Davey sighed, giving a tired smile. “It’s…going.”

Les helpfully chimed in, crossing his arms and side-eyeing his brother, “David’s in a mood today. Got off on the wrong side of the bed or somethin’.” 

“Happens to the best o’ us, Davey. I get it.” Crutchie replied comfortingly, before stepping forward to the window to get his papes from Weasel. 

Right. David’s sure Crutchie meant well and all and, truth be told, he’d probably know better than most what with the chronic pain associated with his leg, but the comment still irked him more than he’d like. This didn’t happen to every newsie and Davey knew that for a fact. 

Les put his hands behind his head casually and teasingly complained, “You an’ Sarah and your moods. Luckily the Jacobs sibling curse skipped me.” 

Davey rolled his eyes. No one in the family had ever bothered to explain it to Les, so all he knew was that this was an occasional irritability that his brother and sister shared. “Right, well, give it time, you might still get afflicted.” David joked though he knew his brother was lucky enough, indeed, to have never been at risk of the ‘curse’ at all. 

“Affected by what?” came Jack’s voice from behind them, as he walked towards them, signature grin on his face.

David’s heart fluttered in his chest and the feeling alone was nearly enough to lift his spirits. A smile spread across his face unbidden. “Just a sibling inside joke,” he replied, wanting to change the subject as he stepped forward to get his papes. “How are ya, Jack?” 

Jack positioned himself in between David and Les, throwing an arm casually around the older Jacobs’ shoulders. “Good, good. Guess what, Davey?”

“Hm?” Davey managed, sluggishly dragging his thoughts away from the feeling of Jack . 

“Had a dream ’bout you’se last night.” Jack replied, smiling at Davey as he put down his coin and got his own papes from Weasel. 

“ Really ?” David asked before he could stop himself. Itdoesn’tmeananything, hedoesn’tmeanitthatway, shutupshutupshutup, don’tsayanythingstupid.  

Les quirked an eyebrow and sarcastically said, “And suddenly your mood’s all better. When you’re ready to go sell, give me a holla.” He ran off to go play with some of the other littles.

Jack and Davey barely spared him a glance as they moved away from the window to stand a little ways away. 

“Wha—what was it about?”

Jack momentarily hesitated, shuffling his feet a bit. Davey found it rather endearing— did he really think I wouldn’t ask about it? “Uh, y’know, was just you an’ me in my, my penthouse. It was real nice. I’se…I was drawin’ y—well I’se was drawin’ the skyline for ya.” His cheeks reddened in what Davey guessed was embarrassment. (That’s all it could be, after all.) “Er, some stuff happened and I just wanted it to be like that foreva.” Quickly he added, “Dreams, y’know, don’t remember it real well.” 

Davey wasn’t sure why Jack was being so weird about it, but it sure sounded lovely. And normal. Not anything like the dreams Davey had about Jack. “Sounds great, Jack.” he replied sincerely. “You know you can always share that kind of stuff with me, right?” 

“’Course, Davey.” Jack said, removing his arm from around Davey’s shoulders and avoiding his eyes. “Let’s get to sellin’, yeah?”

“Sure…” David replied uncertainly, struggling to understand the shift in Jack’s demeanor. 

Chapter Text

“Hey, Davey, ya don’t look so hot, you’se alright?” Jack asked later in the day, tactile as ever with a hand gently placed on the other boy’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What makes you say that?” Davey replied, worried that he hadn’t done a good job at hiding his discomfort. Granted, it was hard when his insides felt like they were trying to claw their way out of his body and prove to the world that he wasn’t who he said he was, but he should be used to this by now.

Jack huffed in disbelief, sliding his hand up to rest not on Davey’s shoulder but now on his jaw. He tilted Davey’s head slightly as though looking for an injury or other visible explanation for his behavior. Davey let him, preoccupied as he was by the pain radiating from his abdomen and the pleasant warmth of Jack's hands. 

“You’re pale…and quiet. You’se sure you’se okay? We can't have ya gettin’ sick on us or som’in’.”

Les reappeared from wherever he’d run up ahead to and glanced between the two teens, eyes all too perceptive for his brother's taste. Davey quickly peeled Jack’s hand off his face, with a soft, insistent, “It’s nothin’ Jack, I’m fine,” and turned to face Les, glaring at him with two messages he hoped were clear: Forget you saw that and Don't you dare go oversharing about things you don't understand.  

Les, for once in his short life, respected his brother’s authority and instead of saying whatever had first come to his mind, he instead smiled innocently and asked Davey for another pape. 

They kept selling as usual, though Davey continued to feel distinctly unsettled—no matter how many times he adjusted it, he hated the way his shirt hung across his chest, paranoid that someone would notice and cursing himself for being gentler on himself this morning in an effort to spare himself extra pain because what a fat load of good that was doing for him now, what with the way any time he so much as glanced down made his skin crawl with the subtle reminder of the burden of his body; he felt Jack’s gaze on him when the other thought he wasn’t looking and normally that might put him on edge (in that half-terrified, half-thrilled way that would send warmth up his face and pounding to his heart) but today it just heightened his overwhelming unease, wishing that Jack would just stop worrying about him and treat him like any other newsie because goddamnit maybe he wasn’t like every other newsie in this one crucial way, but he sure as hell worked his butt off to keep up appearances and he didn’t need Jack’s concern if it was just going to fill him with self-doubt like this; with the increased scrutiny he knew he was under from Jack, he was all the more glad he’d worn his black pants today, yet the firm knowledge that no trace of his… condition would be visible did little to alleviate his irrational fears that it’d been too long since he’d had a chance at privacy to make sure everything was still under wraps and that somehow he would find himself backed into a proverbial corner, forced to provide some twisted lie, anything to explain why he was bleeding.  

Yet, with all of this knocking around inside his head, Davey forced himself to play it cool. As best he could, anyway. (Which was not particularly well.) 

Just gotta make it through today , he thought comfortingly to himself. He just had to finish selling, then he could go home and ask his mother to make him some tea and maybe Sarah could stroke his hair in that way that always soothes him…

The sun was nearly setting, both the morning and evening pape had come and gone, by the time Jack suggested, “Why don’t you twos come to the lodgin’ house today? Haven’t come ’round in a while, ’ave ya?” 

“Oh, Davey, can we? Can we? Pleassseee ?”

Davey opened his mouth to protest, mind still fixed on his plans with the all-important cup of tea and the rest his body seemed to be demanding, but Jack stopped him with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk: “Thought you’se is fine?” 

How was he meant to argue with his own logic? He hated the thought of admitting he wasn’t feeling well— especially right now. And…how much more time was he going to get with Jack anyway, now that returning to school was within sight and Sarah seemed to be all that mattered to Jack at the moment? 

“I am. Let’s go.”

“Yes!” Les whooped.

“I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Why would I thank ya for something you were always going to say yes to in the first place?” 

Chapter Text

As soon as Davey stepped foot inside the lodging house, he knew he was not going to have a good time. Normally, he could just barely handle the overwhelming sights and sounds of so many newsies packed into one space—after all, it was only a bit more chaotic than the school yard and he had been forced to get used to that. In fact, the lodging house was better than the school yard had ever been, because Davey could breathe a little easier with the knowledge that everyone here respected him, maybe even liked him. 

Today, though, he was already so overcome with disgust and discomfort, that it was a struggle to even be present right now. 

He felt Jack’s hand gently close around his elbow, guiding him through the crowded room and, despite his general restlessness, the feeling was grounding. Jack paused to speak to Racetrack and Davey only heard bits and pieces of the exchange over the din of the room. 

“—he alright? He looks like shit, what—?” A meaningful look was thrown at Davey by Racer. 

A shrug. “’m not sure—not feelin’ well—” Jack mumbled back, Davey straining to hear while feigning disinterest. “—won’t tell me—” 

Racetrack smirked and elbowed Jack. “Maybe if ya—” Whatever he said next was accompanied with a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows. “—then he’d feel betta—”

Jack took his hand off of Davey’s elbow to shove Race lightly, gaze darting almost nervously to check that Davey hadn’t heard, then grumbling to his brother, “Shut the hell up, that’s not what this is about and you knows it.” 

“Surrreee.” Race replied, smirk still firmly on his face. 

Davey was about to ask what they were just talking about when Les, who was sitting criss-cross on the floor with Albert, Specs, and Snipeshooter, called, “Race, come play poker with us! I swear I’m gonna win this time!” 

Race grinned and went to join them, “I’se wouldn’t be so sure if I was you, Mister.” 

David felt Jack’s hand return to his elbow and then they were walking again, this time with renewed urgency. Davey was nearly able to swallow his curiosity, that is, until Jack brought them to a quieter corner and had him sit down. Begrudgingly accepting the opportunity to rest a fraction, relieved to no longer be on his feet, he asked, “So, what was that about, Jack?”

Jack smiled in that way that Davey had come to recognize as meaning his next words would be at least 85% bullshit. “Oh nothin’, just worried about ya—you’se sure you’se not comin’ down with nothin’?”

“Just having an off day, you really don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.” Davey replied, some of his frustration inadvertently dripping into his voice. “And that didn’t really answer my question. What was Racer teasin’ ya about?” 

“Teasin’? No, no that wasn’t teasin’, he was just…bein’ awful rude, had to tell him off.” 

Davey raised an eyebrow at that, knowing there was certainly more to it, but decided that he didn’t have the energy right now to probe. “Right, if you say so.” he replied, gaze sliding lazily over the room, relieved that his ‘stomach’ ache had now subsided, although he was still pointedly ignoring the growing, uncomfortable dampness of his underpants. “Say, Jack?” He turned his head and found that Jack’s eyes were already on him, warm and affectionate in a way that almost fooled Davey’s eager aching heart. This happened all too often. 

“Yeah, Davey?” Jack asked easily, smiling easily. Everything he did seemed to come easily. Davey wished he knew how to be like that—so effortlessly casual, so charmingly sweet, so perfectly (infuriatingly) platonic. 

David nearly forgot what he was about to say next. 

Ah, right. He’d wanted to bring up his imminent return to school, but with Jack looking at him like that and his heart pattering, he found that he couldn’t bring up anything so bittersweet—why ruin the mood? 

“Er..” He quickly searched his mind for an appropriate conversation topic. He seized the first thing that came to him, though he hesitated a second, metaphorically shuddering to think Jack might have no interest in what he had to say. “Do you mind if I share a…a poem?” 

Jack blinked in momentary surprise, but to his credit, he took the unexpected suggestion in stride. “A…poem? Sure, why not? As long as you’se the one sayin’ it.”

“‘I held a jewel in my fingers,

And went to sleep.

The day was warm, and winds were prosy;

I said: ‘T’will keep.’ 

I woke and chid my honest fingers,

The gem was gone;

And now an amethyst remembrance

Is all I own.’” 

Davey came to a stop, having finished the poem. His gaze flitted over to Jack self-consciously—maybe that was a stupid thing to bring up. Strikes and banter are one thing, poetry and philosophy are entirely another. That’s what had always eventually staled relations with his classmates. He should really know better by now—surely now Jack would think that he liked to hear the sound of his own voice, which was actually the exact opposite of the truth—he hated the unsteadiness of his voice, the way he always had to strain to keep it low, only for it to still be too high, too squeaky, too—

Jack let out a low whistle. “That sure was pretty. Did ya write it?”

Davey blushed. “No, it’s by Emily Dickinson. I—I don’t write any, I just like to read them.”

“And mem’rize ’em apparently.” Jack teased, though his voice didn’t have any trace of the derision that David had come to expect. “What was all that ’bout mist and…and…uh, membrance? Did someone steal the jewel?”

“Amethyst and remembrance.” Davey corrected gently, a soft smile creeping onto his face. “And the point isn’t really what happened to the jewel—it’s more about the jewel itself being temporary, just like lots of good things in life.” 

“Hmm.” Jack hummed softly, seeming to ruminate on the subject at hand. “Do you know any other good poems? I’se sure you’se got some good ones.” Davey’s heart fluttered—Jack appreciated his penchant for poetry. “Does Sarah have a favorite? Maybe I’se can...impress her.” Like the jewel Ms. Dickinson wrote so poignantly about, there went whatever shred of good mood Davey had managed to cultivate in the past several minutes. 

“Sarah’s not interested in poetry.” Davey replied hurriedly. 

It wasn’t true. 

“Oh.” Jack shifted, looking sheepish but not altogether ruffled. He smiled again. “Well, what’s you’se favorite, then?” 

“Gosh, just one?” Davey huffed, warming back up to the topic after having put Sarah aside and quickly becoming lost in thought. “Wouldn’t want to bore you, now, Jack.” 

“Ya never bore me, Dave. Gimme a few then, if ya can’t choose one.”

“Let’s see…there’s the ‘Pedigree of Honey’—that’s Dickinson again. Hm…‘The Secret’ by John Clare’s good too. Or maybe ‘Winter: My Secret’...” Davey thought aloud. 

“How abouts ‘The Secret’? Sounds plenty interestin’ to me.”

Davey adjusted his sleeve nervously, more times than needed. He had hoped Jack would pick one of the other ones. “I—I don’t think you’d like it.” 

Jack crossed his arms, cocked his head, and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t go underestimatin’ me now. Might not know any poems myself, but don’t mean I can’t listen, does it?” 

“Right.” Davey replied, swallowing. “Sorry…Here it is then...

‘I loved thee, though I told thee not,

Right earlily and long,

Thou wert my joy in every spot,

My theme in every song.

And when I saw a stranger face

Where beauty held the claim,

I gave it like a secret grace

The being of thy name.

And all the charms of face or voice

Which I in others see

Are but the recollected choice

Of what I felt for thee.’ ”

Silence for several beats. Davey wasn’t sure whether it was the good kind of silence or the bad kind. He took a peek at Jack’s face and found no answers there—he was somewhere in his own head, somewhere Davey couldn’t reach him.

“That’s…hm…wow.” Jack finally said, jaw clenching and unclenching a couple of times. Davey worried he’d made Jack uncomfortable. “Why do ya like it so much?” 

Davey reached into his pocket to check his pocketwatch. “No particular reason.” he lied. “I guess because it’s so striking and poignant. And don’t get me started on the rhyme scheme, it’s pretty great.” 

“Davey,” Jack began and David struggled to decipher his tone. It was halfway between curious and vaguely upset, angry even. It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense, so Davey figured he was interpreting it wrong—that happened to him more often than it rightly should, though he’d gotten better at reading people over time. “Do you’se have a se—”

Davey abruptly stood up, making a show of deliberately doing a double take upon glancing at his watch. “Gee, sorry Jack, Les and I better get going. Ma’ll have my head if we’re not back in time for dinner.” He did not like where this conversation was going, so it was time to make his exit.

“Oh, right, right. Lemme walk the both of you’se home?” Jack suggested, rising too.

“No.” Davey said curtly before he had the chance to stop himself. “I mean, you know, normally, it’d be fine but, uh, you just stopped by yesterday and our parents will either hold you up by askin’ you to stay for dinner or they’ll lecture Sarah for seeing you too much and I just don’t want to start anythin’ tonight, y’know?” 

Jack furrowed his brow and Davey couldn’t tell if that was because his mind was still on the previous subject or because he doubted Davey’s rushed explanation. “Yeah, o’ course. At least let me walk ya to the door.” 

Davey managed to nod and went to coax Les to his feet despite the younger boy’s vehement protests that he wasn’t done with his poker game. The whole way to the door, Davey couldn’t help but pray that Jack had forgotten the poem and that, on an unrelated note, his pants were dry.

Chapter Text

“David, come ’ere, you look exhausted.” Sarah called quietly from the doorway, clad in her nightgown, motioning for Davey to come to bed. 

“I’ll be right there. Just…finishing my tea.” He was feeling better, admittedly—he’d had a chance to wash up, scrub himself clean, and his pains had eased and now he was in his loose sleep shirt, which was baggy enough to both be comfortable and (for the most part) banish self-conscious thoughts. 

Sarah smiled softly and stepped closer, stroking Davey’s hair comfortingly. “Hmm…you might be due for a haircut soon.” She tilted her head. “It’s cute this way though. You could grow it out a bit more, it’d make you look real handsome.”

After another sip of tea, Davey replied, “I like it short.” 

“...A little hair doesn’t make you any less of a guy, you know.”

“I don’t know.” Davey said, because admittedly he wasn’t sure how his family could act so normal about him when he himself was always so insecure. “Besides…it’s not just that. I don’t like feeling too much hair on my neck or on my forehead. Makes my skin crawl, it just doesn’t feel right.” 

“Mm, yeah you’ve always been a little like that.” Sarah remarked quietly and Davey didn’t know if he should be comforted or offended by that. He finished off his cup of tea and followed Sarah to the room, where Les was already fast asleep in his bed. 

Davey slipped into bed first, taking his usual place closest to the wall with his back to Sarah. His sister pulled back the covers and climbed into bed beside him. Davey closed his eyes and tried his best to fall asleep with little success; he kept shuffling his feet, unable to find a comfortable position, and his mind couldn’t resist reminding him of the moisture he so resented between his legs. 

It didn’t matter that he did everything right. It didn’t matter that, for the most part, everyone believed he was who he said he was. It didn’t matter that for the first time in his life he was surrounded by friends who cared what he had to say, even if they didn’t always understand it. It didn’t matter that he knew exactly who he was.

At times like these, all he could think about was the fact that no matter what he did, he’d never be a real boy, a real man . Everything in his life always seemed to boil down to the secret circumstances of his birth.

“David. Quit squirming.” Sarah hissed. Then, voice softening, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

He couldn’t burden her with this, so he tried his best to lay still and eventually drifted off to sleep, where he very likely would dream for the nth time of a world where, rather than be trapped in a body he despised, he’d been blessed with the proper one to begin with.

Chapter Text

Les found it awfully funny—what was that word Davey liked to use? Oh, ironic—that, even though his brother had just scolded him yesterday, now it was Davey who was holding them up, looking bleary-eyed as he finished his breakfast. Les was already busy tying his shoes, having finished his food ages ago. 

“David, don’t forget to start reviewing with Les. Can’t have you returning to school having forgotten everything, can we?” Pa said warmly but firmly, reaching out to ruffle Les’s hair.

Davey nodded vaguely. “Right, right…” He muttered some more but Les didn’t hear it. 

“Pa?”

“Yes?”

“When do ya think Davey’s mustache will come in?” Les asked curiously, nose wrinkling at the thought of his brother with his father’s whiskers. 

He didn’t miss the knowing glance exchanged by father and son, nor did he fail to note the way Pa huffed a quiet laugh and ruffled his hair once more. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be happening any time soon,” said Pa, amused, and Les had the nagging feeling there was something he was missing here. 

Les tilted his head. “Why not?”

Pa paused as though searching for an answer. From his spot at the table, Davey filled in the silence instead with a short, “Too itchy. Clean shaven is better.” Les knew he must have said something wrong from his brother’s flattened mouth and tense shoulders. What was so stressful about facial hair? It could be funny, maybe, but not hurtful. 

Les made a mental note not to bring that up again—it was always hit or miss when it came to questioning his brother and while he usually enjoyed riling Davey up, he figured it probably wasn’t a good time. Besides, he really wanted to get going because Boots had promised to give him his Doughnut Bill trading card in exchange for two leftover rugelach that Les swiped from the counter and the longer they stuck around here the more likely Mama was to notice the missing pastries.

“Davey, can we gooo?” Les whined and he knew he was whining but it usually succeeded in getting him what he wanted so he didn’t care enough to stop.

Davey let out an audible sigh and took the last bite of his food. “Fine, just give me a second.” he replied, before disappearing to go use the bathroom. Les wondered absently how much longer this was going to take. 

Mama was tidying up the kitchen when she paused and asked in a stern voice, “Where did all the rugelach go? …Les, do you happen to know something about this?” She turned to face him with a knowing look on her face.

“No! I swear it wasn’t me this time! I don’ know anything about this.”

“Lester Katriel Jacobs…” Mama warned. 

Les sighed as though defeated, holding his bag a little closer to his body. “Fine, but David took ’em, not me, honest!” he lied.

To his surprise, his mother’s expression softened. “He should have asked…but I’m glad. He needs to eat.”

“No fair, ya never say that about me!” 

“What’s going on?” Davey asked, walking back into the kitchen as he pulled his cap on. He looked refreshed and slightly more awake, which was good, hopefully he would be in better spirits now.

“Nothing, let’s go!” Les huffed, practically pushing Davey’s bag into his hands. Davey gave him a strange look, probably wondering why he was so eager to leave this morning but Les just ignored it. 

A few minutes after they’d finally left the apartment, Davey, being the responsible older brother that he was, just had to spoil Les’s fun by heeding Pa’s request.

“We’ve got some time while we walk, maybe we can start reviewing now.”

“Davey, ya led a strike, but ya sure are the same ol’ goody-two-shoes.” 

“Well, someone has to keep you in line.” 

“...Just as long as ya quit it ’round my girl, I guess it’s fine.”

“‘Ya girl’? Ya mean Sally?” Davey asked, seeming equal parts dubious and amused. “Nevermind, we’re getting off track here. We’re reviewing whether you like it or not. Let’s see…we can start easy. 11 plus 6?”

“17.”

“Right. How about 2 times 8?”

“...16?”

“Why do you sound unsure? You have it right. And 16 minus 9?”

“7. Say, Davey, are ya actually lookin’ forward to goin’ back? To school, I mean?” 

“Sure, why not?” Davey responded, at first not looking at Les, but eventually meeting his eyes and shrugging. “Truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it. Now, how do you spell…‘decorative’?”

Les thought for a second. “D-E-C-O-R-A-T-I-V-E.” When Davey didn’t correct him, Les figured he had earned himself more time to talk. “You’ll miss Jack, won’t ya?”

As expected, a soft blush spilled onto his brother’s cheeks and he smiled a little. It was small, subtle, but it spoke loud and clear to Les. “Of course I will. He’s my best friend.”

Now, Les didn’t know a lot and maybe his family was keeping stuff from him, but, if there was one thing he knew, it was that ‘best friends’ did not begin to cover things between the two strike leaders. It felt wrong to hear it. It felt insulting to common sense, frankly.

Les was still trying to formulate an appropriately witty response when they arrived at the distribution center. Davey’s gaze was drawn, as usual, to Jack, who was already present, and as Les followed his brother’s gaze, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew his brother had never had many friends, but did he really not know what ‘best friends’ meant? 

“Imma go talk to Boots.” Les informed his brother, who nodded and told him to be quick. Les, on light feet, found Boots sitting beside Snipeshooter. “Hiya Boots! I gots the goods you asked for.” He removed the two rugelach, which he’d wrapped in a bit of brown paper, from his bag. He could smell the sweet chocolate filling and he knew the boys could too—how could Boots resist?

At least, he thought so, until Snipeshooter cut in, “Boots, I’se tellin’ ya. Food is temp’rary, that card—that’s foreva. It’s not worth it.” 

“Uh, is too. I can guarantee these taste amazin’.” Les shot back, peeved that Snipeshooter was getting in the way of his deal. 

Boots glanced between the two boys and shrugged apologetically. “Gee, Les, I’se just don’t know.” Then, he smiled mischievously. “But, maybe if I’se got a lil taste first, y’know, maybe I could be convinced.” 

“Nuh uh. Hand over Doughnut Bill and then ya can have as many tastes as ya want.” Les replied, remaining firm. “Or…I can just put these away and me an’ Davey’ll eat ’em.”

Boots slipped the baseball card out of his pocket and took a good long look at it. “...So long, Doughnut Bill Carrick.” he muttered at last, holding it out for Les to take. 

“Yes!” Les rejoiced, taking the card quickly before Boots could change his mind. “I mean, thanks. Here.” He handed the pastries over to Boots and stared at the coveted baseball card in admiration. 

His attention quickly shifted when he saw Race pass by, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Racer, wait up!” he called, scrambling to follow the older boy.

Racetrack slowed down to accommodate Les, leisurely taking a cigar out of his pocket. “What’s up?” he asked as he struck a match to light his cigar.

“Can I sell with ya ta-day?” Les asked, glancing across the way at his brother and Jack who were standing just a bit closer to each other than necessary, deep in conversation. He badly wanted a reprieve from the pair’s constant dance of almost-flirting and, besides, he wanted to avoid Davey’s irritating academic review and any pesky questions he might have about where he got the trading card. He darted his eyes back to watch Race’s expression.

Race took a drag of his cigar and then blew out the smoke. “Sorry, Les, not today. I’se headed to Sheepshead.” 

“Please?” 

Race chuckled, shaking his head. “First off, I’m not in the mood to hear Davey lecturin’ me ’bout takin’ ya there and second, it’s Brooklyn, why you’se so eager to go?”

“Well, you seem to go there plenty of’en, don’tcha?” Les challenged. “Why is that?” he wondered aloud, voice dripping with false innocence.

To his credit, Racetrack was not immediately rattled. “Remind me again, the part where any o’ this is you’se business?” 

“I won’t tell if ya…happen to meet Spot.” Les pushed, using his tactical advantage. 

Race fumbled as he put out his cigar. “Now—now, how did you’se—nevermind—the answer’s still no.” His cheeks were growing redder by the second.

“C’mon, Race, please ? I can’t deal with Davey and Jack today, I mean, have ya seen them?” Les complained, gesturing vaguely towards them. 

Racetrack glanced over at them and rolled his eyes, which was exactly how Les felt on the inside. “They’se is…” He searched for the right way to communicate his train of thought then gave up. “They’se gots to get their shit togetha, I’ll grant ya that, but that’s a conversation for anotha day.” 

“No one is any fun ’round here.” Les pouted, crossing his arms. 

Davey approached with Jack by his side and Les caught the tail end of their conversation. Davey was smiling as Jack teased, “Stop, you’se is too modest.” Les didn’t want to know what that was about—it was probably something dumb and cheesy. 

Davey shifted his attention to Les, saying, “C’mon, Les, we’re heading out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” Les grumbled in response, glaring at Race who simply shrugged at him. 

Chapter Text

That night, when they arrived home from selling, Les noticed Sarah reading a letter, a fond smile on her face. He sure hoped it wasn’t from Jack, because he’d already dealt with quite enough of Davey’s poorly concealed besotted smiles and he certainly did not want to swap it out for a dejected Davey instead. Still, curiosity got the best of him as he tiptoed toward her to read the paper over her shoulder.

The letter was written in an elegant, practiced script—much too neat and pretty to be anything of Jack’s and besides, no one he knew would have left so much space on the page blank—it was a waste of paper! Les privately hoped that maybe Sarah was getting letters from another guy so that she and Jack would split—maybe then Davey would finally have the guts to make a move.

“Whatcha readin’?” Les finally asked, making his presence very much known to Sarah, who startled slightly, bringing the paper to her chest and obscuring its contents from view. She blushed slightly and Les, intrigued, wondered if maybe he wasn’t so far off. 

Sarah folded the letter and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just something from Katherine. We’ve started writing to each other sometimes since our schedules don’t line up so well.” 

“Oh, nice.” Les replied, quickly losing interest. 

What was with his siblings and not seeing what was right in front of them? 

Chapter Text

About a week and a half later, Davey found himself desperately looking for an escape.

“Mornin’ Davey.” Mush greeted with his usual good-natured smile. “Sleep well?”

“Not so much.” Davey admitted. “Hey, mind if I sell with you today?”

Mush blinked in disbelief. He joked, “Why, somethin’ wrong with Cowboy?”

Oh, don’t get David started about Jack. Over the past week, Jack had been increasingly showy when it came to being affectionate with Sarah: holding her hand, hugging her close, leaning in and whispering little jokes Davey had no hope of understanding…worst of all, Davey had even witnessed the two of them… canoodling . It had been at least manageable when Davey didn’t see them together so much, but lately Jack had been coming around to see Sarah or going out with all three Jacobs siblings more often and it was increasingly becoming unbearable. It was going to drive him crazy . His sister didn’t even seem to have the good sense to realize her luck—the more physical Jack got, the more she seemed to pull away—she’d smile and laugh and say all the right things, but (at least when Davey was around), it was clear from her eyes that she was far away, having shut down. It was infuriating . If Davey could trade places, have Jack’s love at his fingertips like that, he would cherish Jack a thousand times over. 

What’s more, at the very same time, confounding as it was, Jack had been different around Davey too—nothing so drastic, but past behaviors had been intensifying: finding excuses to be alone with him, whether that meant sending Les away or climbing up to the roof together; almost always keeping a hand (or two) on him, sometimes on his shoulder or his arms, other times on the small of his back or even occasionally his face or hair; the most unnerving of them all was the staring and the leaning—his gaze would linger on Davey’s face in ways that made his stomach flip and he would lean closer, unintentionally, and Davey’s heart would thrum against his ribcage. Things felt charged and Davey’s silly heart whispered that that meant something, but he knew it didn’t, it never did, this was just his imagination running wild. 

Needless to say, Davey was not about to dump this all on poor Mush, so instead he grumbled, “Just need a change of pace. So can I?”

Mush glanced behind him, presumably at Kid Blink who was a few paces away, talking to Skittery. “Gee, sorry Davey, usually it’d be yes but, uh, taday’s not so good a day.” At Davey’s raised eyebrow, the other boy’s cheeks reddened slightly and he explained, albeit quite vaguely, “Promised Blink we’d sell togetha an’ we’se got plans, he’d kill me if I changed ’em.” 

Davey huffed but nodded his understanding. 

Mush must have seen something in his expression because he chuckled and asked, partly amused, partly concerned, “You’se really wanna avoid Jack that bad?”

“What’s this I hear ’bout avoidin’ good ol’ Jack?” Racetrack asked as he came to stand next to them, papes already purchased and tucked under his arm.

“I’ll let Davey tell ya about it ’imself.” Mush replied, moving away to go join Blink, leaving Davey with a curious (and probably nosy) Race, who appeared to be waiting for a response.

Instead of giving him the benefit of an explanation, Davey abruptly said, “Could I sell with you today, please?” 

“I’se gonna need a lil more before I answer that, Mouth.” 

“...Les just wants to spend time with Jack.” Davey lied. “...and maybe I could use some time away from ’em…” he admitted, quieter.

Race regarded Davey skeptically and for a moment Davey worried he would turn him down. Race sighed and shook his head. “Fine, but you’se gonna tell me whatever sorry story got ya here, or else I’se dumpin’ ya back wit’ Jack.” 

Davey’s shoulders slumped, partially in relief of having found a way to distance himself from Jack, partially in disappointment, trying to think of a way of explaining the situation in a way that would come off as normal and platonic .

With a pat on the shoulder, Race told him, “Ya better get your papes so we’se can scram before Jack starts askin’ too many questions.”

Chapter Text

Davey was starting to reconsider his decision to sell with Race. What with the way Jack had looked at him with such a confused, helpless expression on his face when he’d told him he was selling with Racetrack today but that Les would be happy to accompany Jack anyway, Davey was beginning to feel guilty about his avoidance of Jack. After all, it wasn’t Jack’s fault he was feeling this way, having these thoughts. Besides, he hadn’t managed to think of any eloquent and benign explanation for his recent discomfort around Jack.

Presently, Race was across the street sweet-talking a young, fresh-faced banker into buying a pape, while Davey was busy yelling, “Extra, extra! Chinese Imperial Army faces off against anti-Christian rebels, 30 dead!” He was surprised when that line actually sold him a paper. He unfolded the paper to get a look at a few more stories—there had to be something else he could say, since he knew that only he and the prim older woman who had purchased the pape would take any interest in the situation in China. 

By the time Davey lowered the pape, now armed with shocking and slightly indecent news from the gossip column, Race had appeared in front of him, startling him when he registered his presence. Race was tapping his foot impatiently and leveling him with a keen look. “Davey, think it’s about time you’se explained yourself.” 

Davey tried to take a deep breath— stay calm, I’m sure I can come up with something, right? —but his ribs ached as he did so, protesting against the fabric that imprisoned them. “Gee, uh, Jack’s just been extra annoying as of late.”

Race closed his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. Davey fretted that he might have offended him somehow, on account of him being Jack’s brother and all. It seemed that wasn’t the case, however, when Race’s next irritated words were, “We’se both know ya couldn’t find Jack annoyin’ if ya tried, so kindly stop lyin’ to me. If you’se worryin’ ’bout me or anybody else knowin’ ’bout, y’know, ya really don’ have nothin’ to worry ’bout.”

Davey’s heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t mean—no—what did he think he knew? Davey hadn’t been good enough—he was supposed to keep it together, be normal —now he was totally out of his depth, desperately trying to figure out where things stood and how he could fix everything. “What are you talking about? What is it you think you know? Because you—whatever you think is going on here, Racer, you’re wrong.” 

Race raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on his hip. “Dave, it’s so stinkin’ obvious that you’se smitten and ’t’s not even funny watchin’ the two of you’se dancin’ ’round it.” 

Obvious? That was the last thing Davey wanted to hear! Sure, Race’s continued use of his name seemed to suggest he hadn’t figured out his bigger secret, which came as a small relief, but to hear that his feelings, which he had been grappling with and struggling to hide, had been plain to see—it just completely wrecked whatever confidence David had had in his ability to conceal his secret. Worse, if that secret was obvious, who was to say he’d been any good at hiding the other, darker secret that plagued him constantly? 

Davey ran a nervous hand through his hair, looking everywhere but Race. Eye contact felt like too great a burden right now. “...You can’t know—I-I thought I was hidin’ it well.” 

When Davey’s eyes happened to sweep Race’s face in their frantic travels, he noticed his expression soften several degrees. “Look, Davey, ‘s no big thing. Us newsies, we don’ care so much ’bout all that. And you’se wouldn’t be the only one, eitha, plenty of us in the lodgin’ ’ouse.”  

“Sure, but—” Not like me . Davey managed to cut himself off before he finished that thought. (He’d hardly registered that Race had said ‘us’ because it wasn’t new information, really.) He sighed. Admittedly, this wasn’t going horribly—he didn’t like the situation one bit, but he could still salvage this. He had to. “Does everyone know?” He finally gathered the courage to resume eye contact.

“Most.” Race admitted with a shrug and a sympathetic smile. “I’m tellin’ ya, ya got nothin’ ta worry about. And before you start spiralin’ all ova again, no, Jack doesn’t know, too thickskulled for that.”

Davey lapsed into silence, absently checking his pocketwatch as though that would distract from the mess at hand. 

“So, now that that’s outta the way, what’s up with you two, at the moment ?”

“...Do I have to answer that?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

Davey huffed, face reddening uncomfortably. “...I just…can’t be around him right now, it’s too much—Sarah and him—and he always leans too close and just—I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

Racetrack had an unreadable expression on his face, somewhere between constipated and mournful. “Listen, you ain’t gonna wanna hear this, but I’se think you should tell ’im.”

Dave bristled, turning around and walking down the street. His purpose hadn’t been to lose Race entirely, he knew Race would follow him, he was just expressing his distaste with the unseemly advice. He felt Race’s presence a few paces behind and, making sure to speak loudly enough so the other boy could hear, he emphatically stated, “I’m not telling him. You can’t convince me.” 

“Pal, I know this might be hard to believe given…recent ’appenings but the situation really ain’t as hopeless as ya think.”

“This isn’t like you and Spot, I can’t tell him and I won’t.”

“How come both you an’ Les know about that?” Race demanded, easily distracted and beginning to blush. By now he was walking beside Davey.

“Les knows?” Davey asked, surprised. He’d never known Les to be subtle enough to keep something of that nature a secret. It seemed there were more to his little brother than met the eye. “I just had a hunch, wasn’t sure until just now…”

Race opened his mouth as though about to say something more, then shook his head briefly. “Besides the point, my relationship ain’t in question here. Trust me when I say this that ya have to tell ’im. He might never realize his feelings for you othawise.”

“Yeah, maybe ’cause he doesn’t have any .” 

“Okay, look, hypothetically, if he don’t, which I’se guarantee ain’t the case, but let’s say worst case scenario, he don’t feel the same way, Jack loves ya in some type of way, so he won’t ever hate ya.” 

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t get it.” 

“Try me.” 

“It would muck everything up, alright? He’s my sister’s fella .” Davey replied, frustrated. “I’ve seen the way he holds her and kisses her and—there’s just no way he feels the same. He looks at me and sees a friend and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

“Buddy, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, he feels the same and is just…confused? ’Cause I promise you that’s what’s happ’ning.”

“Either way, it can’t work! It just can’t, because even if we got together he would find out I’m—” Davey’s rational brain caught up to what his blasted mouth was saying and he abruptly shut it, course-correcting. “Nevermind. Point is, it’s doomed to fail and I’m not baring my heart to him because it won’t end well.” 

Race blinked, narrowing his eyes. “What were you’se about ta say there? He would find out you’re what?” 

“It’s nothing.” Davey replied, starting to sweat. I can’t do anything right!

“No matta what you’se hidin’ it don’t matta to me and trust me it wouldn’ matter to Jack, he’s hardly in any position to judge, believe you me. So what is it?” 

“Racetrack, drop it. If I tell you I’m not hiding anything, it’s because I’m not . I won’t entertain this conversation any longer.” Davey sped up, hoping the other newsie would get the message. 

Chapter Text

They were sitting on his bed. Sitting. On. The. Bed. In. Their. Outside. Clothes. 

When David and Les had gotten home that night, Davey had hoped to escape to their bedroom, only to find Katherine and Sarah sitting side by side on his and Sarah’s bed. Not only did Katherine, in her neat dress with her perfectly pinned hair, look totally out of place in their modest home, but Davey’s body seemed to itch uncomfortably with the knowledge that the bed was being disturbed. 

“...Hello.” he finally managed to croak, crossing the room to go to the window, gazing out at the street below.

“Hi, Davey.” Katherine greeted warmly. “How are you?”

“Well, thanks. You?” Davey knew his short responses and lack of eye contact were rude but he felt he had spoken entirely too much today already and this was the most he could muster. 

“I’m quite well too.” Katherine replied and Davey could hear the smile in her voice. “You know I always enjoy your sister's company.” 

“Oh, stop.” Sarah huffed good-naturedly. “David, can we have a little pr—”

“Sarah! Your father and I need to talk to you about something.” Esther called from the kitchen. Davey couldn’t help but smile faintly at that—maybe that would get Sarah and Katherine out of his hair.

Unfortunately, only Sarah left the room and it seemed he would have to live with Katherine’s presence for now. He could do that, he convinced himself. Hopefully, it’d be just a few more minutes. He moved away from the window to position himself a bit closer to the door, under the pretense of putting Les’s few toys away. He tried for a conversation, “Whatcha writing about lately?” He figured that would get Katherine chattering and require little input on his end. If he could do a good enough job of merely half-listening, he might even be able to make out his family’s conversation in the next room. 

“At the moment, they have me on a story about that new law they just passed…” Yup, Davey had played his cards right and he could readily ignore the reporter for a bit. (Don’t get him wrong, he was fond of Katherine and they usually connected on several levels, but right now he was much more concerned with what his sister and parents were talking about.)

Straining to hear, inclining his head just so towards the door, Davey managed to catch the conversation after it had already started. “—been coming around too often and being too…hands-on.” he heard his father say.

His mother chimed in, “We’re not asking you to stop seeing him, we just want you to remember you’re a young lady who has the responsibility of guarding her honor.” 

“Ma! Jack is a gentleman.” came Sarah’s voice, frustrated and annoyed.

“Yes, well, notwithstanding our fondness for the boy, we don’t want to see you expecting any time soon, you’re too young.” Esther replied matter-of-factly.

There was a pause, then Sarah made a strangled noise and rushed to protest, “Get your minds out of the gutter, gosh! I haven’t even thought—let’s not talk about this anymore!” 

Davey heard Sarah walking (practically stomping!) towards the bedroom door and rushed to focus back on what Katherine had just said. “...one of my colleagues says that my prose is less flowery than he expected from a girl, which I suppose he meant as a compliment, but I thought it was kind of offensive or maybe I was just making a big deal out of nothing. What do you think, Davey?” 

“Seems pretty offensive to me. ‘From a girl’ was hardly necessary.” Davey mumbled, though his attention was on Sarah’s red face and raging eyes as she entered the room. 

He was glad, at least, that he never had to endure such awkward conversations from his parents. Sure, that which they spoke of to Sarah was physically possible for David as well, but they knew he would never show that part of himself to anyone, let alone engage in…such intimate activities. For a long time, Davey had been content in this understanding—he had no interest in being a husband or a father, less out of a lack of desire for the roles and more out of a dull, faded disappointment that he could never conventionally fill those roles—and he had so rarely fancied anybody that any thoughts of intimacy had been but fleeting and fantastical. 

Now, he wasn’t so certain where he stood. Jack was always so close, yet still just out of reach. After all, Mama and Pa were talking to Sarah just now, not Davey. And, even if Jack loved him and wanted him back, as Race seemed to think, Davey knew it couldn’t work. Because the moment Jack wanted to take the next step, get physical, he would discover that secret which would irreversibly shatter whatever honeyed vision he might once have had of David Jacobs. 

And Davey simply could not allow that to happen.

Chapter Text

After a dinner in which David spoke little more than two dozen words, which Les knew was just the way he was sometimes, Davey now stood clearing the dinner table, a task his mother had given him, hoping it would help him relax, as chores sometimes did. 

Les studied his brother out of the corner of his eyes, wondering if it was safe to ask his question. He figured it probably was—after all, Davey wasn’t as tense as he had been earlier, so it would probably be fine. “Davey, I have a question.” he chirped straightforwardly.

Davey’s eyes flicked toward his general direction, though he didn’t meet his eye. That’s okay, Les wasn’t offended. “It better not be dumb.” Les took that to mean, Shoot.

“Why’d ya wanna sell with Race today?” Les asked, watching his brother’s expression carefully. 

Davey’s grip tightened around the fork he was holding. “Just wanted to switch things up.” 

“ Right …” 

“What’re you getting at?” Davey snapped impatiently as he continued to gather the dishes and utensils. 

“Oh, nothin’.” Les said, adopting a sugary sweet, innocent tone. “Just that you, of all people, hardly ever do anything on a whim. Soo…maybe this has more to do with Jack than it does with you wantin’ somethin’ new, hm?”

Davey stiffened, shoulders, almost unconsciously, lifting to around his ears. “...Fine, maybe I wanted to avoid ’im, so what?”

Les lifted an eyebrow, inquiring. “Norm’lly you act like his attention’s as important as breathing, why would ya suddenly want nothin’ to do with ’im? C’mon, Davey, if this’s ’bout what’s goin’ on between the two of ya, ya don’t gotta hide it from me, it’s not like I don’t know you’re crazy ’bout ’im. Spill them beans.”

Les had decidedly struck a nerve. This would either go very well or very badly for him, he knew, as he watched Davey put down the plates and utensils he’d been holding with unusual force. For a moment his brother was silent, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. Finally, he turned to face Les once more and rather than the frustration that had been plain in his expression before, only profound defeat was left in its place. 

“Why does everyone know?” Davey muttered, voice unusually small and fragile, and it almost seemed like he was talking more to himself than to Les. 

“Everyone? Whaddya mean?” Les asked, knocked a touch off-kilter. Then, he remembered a conversation he’d had with Race. “Oh! Were you talkin’ about it with Racer earlier? What did he say?” 

Davey rolled his eyes. “Oh, just that I’m apparently so obvious and I should tell Jack. Fat chance of that happening.”

“He’s not wrong, y’know.” Les pointed out, but Davey’s sour expression told him to move swiftly on. “Wait, why were ya avoidin’ Jack in the first place?”

Davey gestured vaguely in a way only he seemed to understand. “Overwhelming.” came his eventual one word response.

“Oh, yeah, I noticed. He’s been flirting wit’ ya more than usual. Which is weird, considering he’s been flirting extra with Sarah too. Y’know, I love Cowboy to bits and all, but he’s sure dumb sometimes. I wouldn’t take it personal.”

“Easier said than done.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Les got up several minutes earlier than usual. After all, he needed to be up before Davey if he was going to have this very important one-on-one conversation with Sarah. 

As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, Les saw that his assumption was correct—on the other side of the room, Davey was still asleep, back to him, but Sarah’s side of the bed was noticeably empty. Now to find Sarah.

Les slipped out of bed and padded across the floor, careful not to wake Davey. He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him as soundlessly as possible. He glanced around the kitchen but saw only his mother. Quietly, he asked, “Where’s Sarah?”

“Fetching water.” Esther stated matter of factly in response. “You’re up early. Why’re you looking for your sister?”

“Got somethin’ to ask her. Real important.” Les said, not thinking twice before opening the front door and scurrying out, not caring that he was still in his pajamas. 

He found Sarah getting water from the pump at the end of the hall. She startled slightly upon seeing him, then smiled good-naturedly. “Now, what might you be up to, awake this early?”

“I gots to ask you somethin’ and you gotta be straight with me, there’s no avoidin’ it.” 

Sarah regarded him curiously, hands pausing around the pump’s handle. Her lips curled softly in a teasing smile. “Oh? Trouble with Sally, perhaps? I’d be happy to offer my advice.” 

“What? No.” Les protested even as he felt his cheeks redden. (Is this how it felt every time he teased Davey? Whatever, that was warranted, this was not.) “This has got nothin’ to do Sally, we’re fine.” 

Les cleared his throat and put a hand on each of Sarah’s shoulders, which he was able to do thanks to Sarah’s partially crouching position. “Now, listen to me when I say this, I couldn’t think of no nicer way to say this, but. You. Need. To. Break. Up. With. Jack.” 

Sarah’s expression visibly changed, with her once easy-going smile flattening into a vaguely neutral form just shy of a scowl and a crease forming between her eyebrows. “Did Pa and Ma put you up to this?” 

Les was so close to facepalming. “No! They love Jack. The trouble is, you don’t.” 

Sarah scoffed. “Of course I love him.” Her eyes refused to meet Les’s and she wiped her palms awkwardly on her apron. 

“That’s the thing, Sarah, I don’t think ya do.” Les replied, putting his hands on his hips. “From what I can see, and believe me, I see a lot more than anyone in this family seems to realize, ya clearly prefer Katherine to Jack by a long shot.”

And there it was: Sarah’s cheeks lit up and her hands closed around the fabric of her dress. “I—” She glanced around, as though the thought that any of their neighbors might hear through the thin tenement walls troubled her. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for that. Every girl prefers her best friend to her beau. That’s normal.” 

I sure hope that’s not true , Les thought to himself, mind flashing momentarily to Sally. “I don’t think that’s right, but even if it were, it’s obvious Katherine is more to ya than just a friend.” 

“...So what? That doesn’t get me anywhere. It’s better this way. Jack’s nice and he treats me right.” 

Les huffed, hardly believing his ears. Better? Ha. Sarah clearly didn’t know what she was talking about. “And how is that fair to Jack, huh? Or, y’know maybe more importantly , your brother, Davey?!”

Sarah’s eyes seemed to clear as she looked at Les in surprise. “Davey?” Les stayed silent for a moment because surely his sister was smart enough to figure it out now that he’d pointed it out, right? “Gee, I guess maybe he has been a tad jealous…I mean, Jack’s his best friend and, let’s be honest, he’s never had much in the way of friends…” Les wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt—maybe she was just being purposefully vague, skirting the ‘dishonorable’ implication he’d made—but given her whole demeanor throughout this exchange, he wasn’t at all confident in this interpretation of her words. He’d have to be even blunter to see this through.

“No, no, no! That is not what I meant! I meant that Davey and Jack are as much best friends as you an’ Katherine are, okay?” Les was breathing heavily by now, what with how worked up he was about this whole thing. He watched Sarah carefully, awaiting her reaction.

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “David…” Her shoulders slumped, almost in relief. “I understand now why he’s been so distant lately!” 

“Yeah! Because his heart breaks every time he sees you and Jack together! He would give anything to trade places with ya, not even realizing that you’re basically just leadin’ Jack on anyway.” Les snapped in exasperation. “And don’t get me started about Jack! He’s so wrapped up in ’imself that he can’t see that he clearly feels the same way about Davey.” 

“Les, are you sure about that? Because—”

“I wasn’t finished! As I was going to say , maybe if ya had the nerve to break up with Jack, he’d finally get some sense and see that it’s been Davey all along. Or maybe Davey’d finally have the guts to tell Jack how he feels, but I doubt that. Whatever his secret is that nobody bothers to tell me has ’im practically paralyzed in fear.”

Sarah grimaced, as though wondering how much to hold back. Les wished she would stop holding anything back. “Yes, well, David has his reasons…and unfortunately, you won’t like this, but I don’t think he ever will be with Jack the way you want him to. Even if you’re right and Jack loves him back, I doubt Davey will ever let it happen.” 

“But why?” Les whined. “What is this horrible secret? Please tell me, Sarah, it’s driving me crazy not knowin’!”

“...It’s not my place to say.” Sarah replied evenly. “I won’t budge on this. Davey might forgive me for going out with the guy he fancies, but he’d never forgive me if I shared his secret without asking.”

Les sighed. “What could possibly be so bad about it? Davey forgave Jack’s lyin’ and scabbin’, so the least Jack could do is overlook whatever Davey’s been hidin’. And shouldn’t I get to know at least? I’m his brother! What’s got him so scared?” 

Sarah leaned down on the handle and started noisily pumping a bit more water. Over the noise, she shot back, “He’s always been petrified it’ll change the way everyone sees him. And…maybe he’s not totally wrong.”

Les saw that he clearly wasn’t going to get anywhere with Sarah, at least not today and not on the subject of Davey’s nebulous, mysterious secret. Besides, he was hungry. “Alright, well I’m gonna go eat breakfast. And you better start workin’ on how you’re gonna end it with Jack.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Davey, can I sell wit’ you’se today? I need to talk to ya.” Les turned, noting the way his brother’s nervous fidgeting paused and his head turned in surprise to look at the boy who’d addressed him—Dutchy. Les couldn’t fathom what Dutchy needed to talk to Davey about and it seemed that Davey was equally at a loss.

“Uh. I mean, sure, that’s fine.” Davey then turned to look at Les who rolled his eyes and answered preemptively, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll let Jack know.” 

Once Davey had handed Les his share of papes, he was off. Les watched him go, wondering what that was about. “Where’s Davey?” Speak of the devil . 

Les turned to look at Jack and pointed to where Davey was rapidly disappearing from view. “Dutchy asked to sell with ’im.” 

Jack furrowed his brow and pulled his cowboy hat further down, over his face, as though it would stop Les from seeing the flash of irritation in his eyes. (It didn’t.) “Well, looks like he’s been awful busy these past couple o’ days,” he remarked, voice tight with barely concealed frustration. 

This was new. Yesterday, Jack had just seemed disappointed, but today…today he seemed closer to jealous. Les supposed that maybe Jack might have perceived Dutchy as a threat, while Race, being his own brother, didn’t register as competition. The mind of Jack Kelly was a strange place, it seemed. 

Reluctantly, Les realized it likely fell on his shoulders, once more, to comfort Jack. “Yeah, maybe, but Davey’s never had many friends, so maybe this’s good for him. Don’ worry, you’re still his favorite.” Les immediately saw the way Jack’s cheeks flushed. How is he so unaware of his own feelings? “And anyway, I’m here ta keep ya company.” Reluctantly. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Not today. Crutchie’s been wantin’ to sell with ya Jack.” came Race’s voice above and behind him. 

Crutchie walked up to Jack’s side. “Yeah, Jack, it’ll be just like old times, right? Besides, I’se got things I need to talk to ya about. Real impo’tant bus’ness.” Crutchie winked and Les wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him or at Race. Maybe both. 

Jack’s shoulders slumped slightly and it was obvious he was none too pleased with this arrangement. “Yeah, fa old times’ sake.” he mumbled, smiling slightly though it was clearly forced. 

Race patted Les on the back and grinned. “The two o’ us, we’se gonna sell together today.” 

Les looked at Race out of the corner of his eye. “Guess you’re not headed to Brooklyn taday then.” he muttered, receiving a light shove in return. 

“C’mon, ya smart alec, let’s get goin’ ’fore I think betta of it.” Racetrack said, beginning to herd Les away. 

Once they were several blocks away, Les’s curiosity got the best of him. “Whaddya think Crutchie’s talkin’ to Jack about?” 

Race chuckled as he took a peek at his pocket watch. “Prolly tryin’ to talk some sense into him. Not sure how much good that’ll do, though.” 

“Ya mean like how you tried talkin’ to Davey yesterday? Thanks a lot, it put him in a right awful mood. He got all quiet and snappy.” Les griped as he lifted a pape to scan the headlines. …something something…Colombian warship…200 rebels drown… That would have Davey interested, but he highly doubted it’d get him much. There was some news from South Africa, but once again Les knew foreign affairs weren’t exactly the concern of the average buyer. He’d have to find something better…

“Speakin’ of Davey,” Knew it. “you’se ever noticed anythin’…out of the ordinary ’bout your brother?” Race asked, trying to appear nonchalant about it, though Les knew he was invested in his answer.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to be more specific. In case ya haven’t noticed, there’s plenty of ways he’s ‘out of the ordinary’.” Les replied, but he already had an idea of what the older boy was getting at. 

“Well, y’know, somethin’ he don’ tell no one else. Somethin’ that stops him from doin’ the things he wants to.” 

Les threw Race a conspiratorial look. “Ya mean his secret?”

“Yeah. Whatcha know about it?” 

“...Sorry Racer, but I am ’bout as clueless as you when it comes to that. Nobody in my fam’ly tells me nothin’.” Les said, kicking up dust in annoyance. 

“Huh, I thought fo’ sure…” Racetrack paused, then shook his head as though to clear it. “How about any little things that, maybe, always seemed normal, until you realized they’se weren’t?”

“Like what?” 

“I don’ know, you tell me!” 

Les told Race he’d think about it while they sold. And think about it, he did. As he told a woman about his supposedly ailing mother and how he desperately needed her to just buy one of his papers, his thoughts were really on Davey’s habits. While he touted a minor yet wildly upsetting headline detailing horrifying events in some town down south, he was thinking about Davey. Even as he sucked on a bleeding papercut, he was still searching his mind for the information Racetrack sought.

Some time later, as the two of them sat down for a break, Race pointedly asked, “So, kid, you’se done thinkin’ yet?”

“Well, seeing as I don’ know the secret, I can’t be sure any of this actually has to do with it, but, I have thought of a few things.”

“Spit it out, then.” 

Les rolled his eyes. “Jeez, I was just gettin’ started. Well, for one thing, Davey don’ sleep in the same bed as me, he sleeps in the bed with Sarah. Never made much sense to me, but hey, I gets the bed to maself. An’ whenever I ask about before I was born, y’know, when Davey and Sarah were little, they never wanna talk much about it. Like, I know I’m great and I didn’t exist yet then, but that’s kinda weird. Never got many hand-me-downs from Davey either, only started to recently. Oh and he’s weirdly touchy about stuff like facial hair or his voice or marriage.”

Race’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one hand. Whatever he was piecing together was utterly lost on Les. He knew there must be something here, between the lines, but the connecting thread was just out of his reach.

Les saw the exact moment that Race figured it out—his eyes widened visibly and his mouth fell open just slightly. Then, he smiled knowingly and snapped his fingers. “Say, Les, have you ever seen Davey change his clothes?”

“No…” Les replied hesitantly, wondering where Race was going with this. “He’s always been real particular ’bout his privacy.”

“And you’ve never seen him piss either, right? He’s never made a quick stop to take a leak in an alley or somethin’?” Race probed, growing increasingly excited.

“Nah, Davey’d never. He’d rather wait all day to use the outhouse at home than go anywhere in public. He can’t even handle a spit shake, how do ya think he’d do something like that? He thinks it’s gross.” Les pointed out. What was with these questions? What could Racetrack see that he couldn’t? 

“I think I’se have it!” Race said to himself triumphantly, letting his fist hit his palm. 

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” Les asked hurriedly. Maybe he wouldn't be getting any answers from his family, but he’d be much obliged to Race if he would fill him in.

“...I’se not so sure I should say. O’ course I’m not certain yet and I don’ wanna give ya the wrong idea…besides, if I’se right, Davey would kill me fa tellin’ ya.” Racetrack said carefully.

“But Race…at this rate I’ll never find out! Ya gotta tell me, please? I won’t say nothin’ to Davey, promise!” 

“No way. Like I’d believe you’se anyway.”

Chapter Text

Davey ground his teeth uncomfortably. He wanted to stop and knew that he should, but he could hardly help it. Dutchy asking him to sell together was so radically outside of the realm of normality that his poor body was searching for anything to distract itself with, as it had a tendency to at the most inopportune moments. He glanced at the blond boy beside him, who was smiling as he pushed up his glasses with ink stained fingers and tried his luck at selling a paper to a strapping young schoolboy, whose well-kept uniform signaled belonging to a world far removed from either newsie. (Davey’s school didn’t have uniforms. It was a nice place and he was awful lucky to go there at all, but a uniform meant private school. And by the looks of it, a real fancy one too. Probably had ‘Academy’ in the name.)

He was getting distracted—the point was, it wasn’t like he had anything against Dutchy. It was just that they’d hardly interacted over the course of the past months, having exchanged only a few brief words here and there. The words ‘I need to talk to ya’ didn’t exactly put him at ease either—sure, it could mean any number of innocent, mundane things, from asking to borrow a book to giving his two cents on union matters—but given how the past few days had gone, Davey certainly wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to have any more ominous conversations. 

During an apparent lull in customers, Davey decided to just be straightforward. “So, Dutchy, what is it you wanted to talk about?” he asked, trying for casual, but keenly aware of how strained his voice came out. 

Dutchy turned to face him, a tiny smile settling on his face easily. “Oh, lighten up, Mouth, it’s nothin’ bad, I’se swear.” Davey attempted a smile back, though the knowing glimmer in the other boy’s eyes had his stomach churning uneasily with nerves. He nodded, signaling for Dutchy to continue.

“Ya see, I noticed somethin’ ’bout you’se, Davey.” Davey must’ve visibly stiffened because Dutchy held up a placating hand, expression softening as he clarified, “It’s somethin’ we’se have in common, you and me, don’ worry.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Davey replied quickly, partly truthful, partly to avoid any sensitive subjects. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. 

“Seems to me like you’se followin’ pretty well.” Dutchy shrugged. “I’se referrin’ to…the way you were born, y’know, you’se body.”

Davey tensed and his thoughts scattered anxiously. His free hand (the one that wasn’t carrying papers) started to clench and unclench despite himself. This was quite literally the stuff of his worst nightmares. His breath came short and his words fast and stilted as he frantically hurried to dismiss, “No—how did you figure—I don’t know what you’re talking about! Really, how dare you—”

“Whoa, calm down there, friend, would ya? You’re not listenin’ to me at all! I’se said it’s somethin’ we have in common. Those weren’t empty words—I was born a girl too. We’ve got the same secret, Davey.”

David blinked. Had he really heard that right? Could it really be true that they were the same in that regard? (He’d always known of course, with a vague sort of unfounded certainty, that there must have been others like him in the world, but he had always felt so completely alone that he had never fathomed he would ever actually meet anyone who shared his secret.)

He studied Dutchy a moment, trying to square this new information with the reality of seeing the blond boy in front of him. He had never even considered this a possibility, so it was rather difficult. Yet, after a good long look at Dutchy, he decided maybe the blond boy was telling the truth—the planes of his face looked just soft enough for it. 

This comforted him somewhat. That is, until his next concern presented itself. “...Am I really that obvious?” Can everyone tell?

“’Course not, Davey, I’se can tell you’ve had practice hidin’. Only reason I can tell’s ’cause I know what to look for.” Dutchy comforted with a gentle smile. “The monthly grouchiness, the way ya look pained sometimes when someone hugs ya too hard or how you’se real sneakily find a way to take someone’s hand off your chest—some other stuff too, but just real small stuff, nobody else’d notice.”

Davey breathed a sigh of relief, consciously making an effort to stop his hand from clenching. His racing thoughts began to ease. “So…you too?”

“O’ course, that’s what I said, ain’t it?” Dutchy remarked humorously. He put both hands into his pockets, papers tucked under one arm. “Just thought I’se should let ya know. Nobody wants to be alone. And we’se not the only ones ’round here either.”

“ Really ?” Davey asked, flabbergasted. There were more boys like them all along? And he’d never noticed? “Who?” 

“Well, Elmer, for one. I know he’d be alright wit’ me tellin’ ya. The others prolly still want it a secret, so I’m not gon’ go blabbin’ ’bout it, but there’s a few of us in the lodgin’ house.” Dutchy adjusted his cap and nudged Davey lightly in the shoulder. “So, no need to be so uptight all the time. No newsie’s gonna judge ya for it.”

Davey smiled cautiously and then the statement’s full meaning sunk in. He met Dutchy’s gaze with surprise. “You mean—the others know?” 

“Sure, most of ’em. O’ course only ’bout those of us who’re okay with sharin’—that or bad at hiding it—but yeah. We’se all live together, it’s hard to stay closed off about it afta a while.” 

“How does—how does Jack feel about it?” 

Dutchy raised an eyebrow, smirk set in a knowing way that made Davey’s cheek redden. “He’s the leader, you’se really think we’se would still be around here if he had a problem with us bein’ the way we are? He’s fine with it. You can tell ’im if that’s what you want, y’know.”

Davey looked down at his feet, feeling caught. Maybe there was a more subtle way he could have asked that. Despite Dutchy’s reassurances, doubt still gnawed at him. “You sure he won’t see me as…you know?” 

“A girl?” Dutchy filled in helpfully. He rolled his eyes. “Give Cowboy a lil more credit, jeez. He can tell the difference between ‘I’m a girl’ and ‘I used to be a girl’. It won’t change a thing, if anything he’ll be more understandin’.” 

“Maybe you’re right, but…” If he really has more-than-platonic feelings for me, which is pretty impossible to begin with, this could change that. David bit his tongue of course—Dutchy didn’t need to hear that.

When Davey looked back up at Dutchy, however, he saw there was an entirely different reason why Dutchy didn’t need to hear it. It seemed, almost, that he might have understood the subtext David had purposefully left out, if his playful eye roll and persistent smirk were any indication. “You two’se are quite the pair, ya know that?” was Dutchy’s only further observation. 

Chapter Text

The next day at dinner, Sarah casually shared information that made David’s world tilt on its axis. 

“I ended things with Jack today.” she mentioned softly during a lull in the conversation. Davey, shocked, immediately choked on his food, coughing violently to dislodge the noodle from his throat. Esther thumped him hard on the back and his coughs eventually subsided. 

“Now why would you go and do that?” Davey exclaimed. 

“Did the boy do something to you?” Esther inquired protectively. Davey wanted to know the answer to that too—maybe if he heard that Jack had somehow wronged his sister he could get over his feelings. 

“No, no, I told you Jack’s a gentleman. I simply realized I don’t really like him that way. He was never the one who had my heart.” Sarah explained, with more poise and grace than Davey could ever muster. “I thought it was unfair to us both to stay in a relationship I didn’t really want. We talked about it and he agreed this was best for both of us.” 

Les chimed in, “Yeah, I think it is.” 

Davey wasn’t sure how they could all be so calm about this. All he could think about was how hurt Jack must secretly have been. “He must be all torn up about this…” he murmured under his breath. 

“Actually,” Sarah cut in, throwing Davey a meaningful look. “Jack admitted to me himself that he’s had someone else on his mind.”

Davey’s cheeks reddened and he shrank in his seat. When had Sarah become aware of his feelings for Jack? Nevermind that, he loved her and all, but she was clearly reading too much into things—if Jack said he had someone else on his mind, it was a leap to assume it meant Davey. He couldn’t start hoping now—it would make it that much harder when the truth was confirmed. 

“David,” Mayer’s voice was full of warmth, prompting Davey to meet his father’s eyes, unsure of what he was about to hear. “It’s alright if you want to be that ‘someone else’.” 

Davey’s blush now reached his ears and he covered his face with both hands, mortified. Even his parents knew! 

Esther sputtered for a moment, swatting Mayer’s good arm. “Uh—oh my, Mayer! Oh, I thought we agreed we wouldn’t say anything!”

“That was before. This is now! There’s no risk of pinning child against child anymore!” 

Sarah burst out laughing as she glanced between mother, father, and son. “You mean to say, you knew about David’s feelings all along?”

“Even I didn’t see that coming.” Les quipped, snickering to himself.

Esther seemed to have overcome her embarrassment by now and explained, “Yes, of course. David’s never brought a friend home before, he wouldn’t bring just anyone around.” Maybe because nobody ever accepted my invitations before, Ma! Davey couldn’t help but think sourly, yet he still didn’t feel up to speaking. 

“And then there’s the way David looks at him and talks about him.” Mayer added. “But, seeing as you were going out with Jack, Sarah, we thought it best to stay quiet. We didn’t want to make it a competition of any sort.”

“ Please stop talking about me like I’m not right here.” Davey interjected, still painfully aware of how thoroughly humiliating this whole situation was. He finally dragged his hands from his face to peer down into his chicken soup, as though it would save him from the terribly awkward conversation at hand. It did not.

“David, you know you could have shared this with us, yes? If you thought we’d be upset…well, clearly we haven’t done something right.” Esther said gently and from her voice alone Davey knew she was being sincere. 

“Tha-that’s not it…” Davey muttered into his soup. “Well, maybe a little, but—” He cut himself off, glancing furtively at Les. He couldn’t say too much. “I didn’t want you to see me as less…” 

“Less of a man? David, how many times do we have to tell you that nothing will make us see you that way?” Sarah asked, seeming fond but low on patience.

“Your sister’s right, you know. You’re already our son, this whole situation with Jack hardly changes a thing.” Mayer added supportively and Davey felt a warm sensation of relief spread through him. It would be enough to quiet his doubts. For now, anyway. 

“I…thank you.” He looked up at his father and mustered a weak but genuine smile. “I think…I really needed to hear that.”

Davey noticed Les glancing around the table and had a feeling that his momentary peace was about to be disturbed. “...Great, now that that’s out of the way…when are ya goin’ to start bringing Jack ’round as your sweetheart and not your so-called ‘best friend’?”

And there it was . “Sh-shut up, it’s never going to happen!” 

“David, I’m sure Jack won’t mind—” Esther began optimistically, but Davey was not about to let her finish.

“Nope, we—let’s not discuss this any longer.”

Chapter Text

“Say, Davey, ya got any more poems knockin’ around in them beautiful brains o’ yours?” Jack asked, bumping Davey’s shoulder lightly with his own. “And ’fore you’se go sayin’ there ain’t anything interestin’ enough for me, just remember, I’se could listen to ya talk for hours.” 

Davey’s cheeks burned. How could Jack just… say stuff like that? In the middle of the lodging house, like it was normal? Like it shouldn’t make Davey’s heart pound? “Poems? Oh, um…of course, I must have more, let me think.” 

A fond smile tugged at Jack’s lips as he shifted to lean his head on the knee of his one bent leg, gaze never leaving Davey’s face. Davey wasn’t sure what was so interesting about his face—he himself had never much liked seeing it in a mirror. He also couldn’t help but question, for what must have been the hundredth time, why Jack Kelly was incapable of sitting properly in a chair. “Y’know, Dave, I’se noticed…ya always look surprised when anyone asks for your opinion or to talk ’bout somethin’ that matters. Is it really that shockin’ that we want to hear what you have to say?” 

Davey’s thoughts momentarily ground to a halt—what could he possibly say to that? How could he make Jack understand that after years of talking his classmates’ ears off and getting nothing in return he’d stopped trying? How could he explain that he used to find the silence encouraging, until he realized what the glares meant? How could he begin to address the gradual change from irritated silence and eye rolls (which he’d had little hope of understanding at the time) to the shoves and ‘accidental’ elbows or even the occasional kicks and blows which spelled his worst days? What could he say about it, when even now a part of him had come to believe his mouth was better kept shut on all matters? 

“Well…yeah, kinda. None of the boys I knew back in school gave a lick what I had to say. Except when they needed answers…” Davey thought momentarily back to those moments when boys who normally scorned him had come to him, tails between their legs and tones sugary sweet, asking humbly for his help on something or other. It used to make him feel all-powerful and it was usually enough to make his day—so much so that he usually graced them with the kindness of actually doing what they asked. Every time he fell into the same trap: Maybe if I help them, just this once… “I—I just…Jack, I got used to keeping my thoughts to myself. Everything up here.” He tapped his temple gently. “It’s easier that way.” 

“Easy my ass!” Jack’s voice rose in indignation. Davey winced at the sudden change in volume. “What did those kids do to you’se to get ya thinkin’ like that? You’re the Walking Mouth and we’se all like that about ya! If I met any of those lousy…well, I’d soak ’em that’s fa sure.” 

Davey opened his mouth to reply, to tell Jack it really wasn’t that big of a deal, but was interrupted by an interjection from Race. “Davey, got a sec?” 

Davey didn’t bother looking over at him—frankly, he didn’t want to know what he would find in his expression nor was he even sure he’d be able to decipher it. “I don’t know, am I going to regret talking to you again?” he answered dryly. 

“You two’se have been talkin’ a whole lot lately.” Jack commented, glancing between the two of them rather pointedly. Davey prayed to everything that was good that Race hadn’t told Jack anything. 

“I’se just lookin’ out for him is all.” Racetrack rebutted, tossing Jack what seemed like a knowing and long-suffering look. “Don’t worry none too much ’bout it, Cowboy. Now, Davey, c’mon?”

David’s stomach roiled uncomfortably and he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Suppose if I gotta…” he trailed off petulantly. “Be right back, Jack.” 

“’Course, I’ll wait for ya right here.” Jack reached out and brought his hand down gently onto Davey’s head and for a moment, Davey damn near stopped breathing, not even able to comprehend for the first several seconds what it was that was happening. When he was finally forced to close his wide eyes for a moment to blink, it finally occurred to him that Jack was fixing the curls that had been disturbed earlier by his nervous hand. When he next opened his eyes, Jack looked so terribly focused then, as though the task was of utmost importance, that Davey could hardly believe this was real life. Then, Jack met his eyes and smiled, a sweet upturn of the lips, and it seemed so natural and beautiful that Davey almost ( almost ) believed all that everybody had been trying to convince him of. 

“ Ahem .” Race cleared his throat loudly and Davey stepped away from Jack as fast as he possibly could, face warmer than should have been possible. Racetrack rolled his eyes so hard and proceeded to take Davey by the elbow, tugging him away. “No need ta act like you’ll never see ’im again, Cowboy.” he scolded, sounding a touch disgusted, over his shoulder.

Race maneuvered them down the stairs to a quiet corner and Davey allowed it, flustered mind struggling to recover proper function, let alone dictate independent movement beyond following the other’s lead.

Once they were settled, Race flicked Davey’s forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” 

“To get you’se head out o’ the damn clouds.” Race rolled his eyes again, crossing his arms. “Now, this is serious, so, if ya don’t mind, can ya focus on somethin’ other than Jack bein’ ridiculous?” 

Davey wrung his hands, remembering the goal of this conversation: Race wanted to talk. About what ? “What…what is it?” It couldn’t be—

Race swallowed, eyes darting momentarily to the side before returning to meet Davey’s gaze. “Now, before I start, you’se can’t get mad ’bout this—it’s prolly not ideal and—and I get that you don’ wanna talk ’bout it, but it’s important and I’se don’t mean nothin’ bad by it.”

“What is it?” Davey repeated, though his own voice sounded far away, hollow and pathetic even to himself. His breath came in short gasps and he ground his teeth uncomfortably, the sensation seeming disconnected from any intentional thought but on the edge of his consciousness nevertheless. His eyes remained affixed to the other boy’s face, scrutinizing, searching for signs of what was to come, yet he floundered hopelessly with only a few clues as to what Racetrack’s expression might have meant.

Race huffed and it was almost a laugh. Nervous, maybe? David’s brain whispered that he had been deceived before—for all he knew, it was derision. “Well, uh, how to say this…uhhh…let me just be upfront about this.” he said, uncrossing his arms and shifting to lean against a nearby wall. He gestured vaguely as he spoke his next words, “Ya weren’t…born a boy, were ya, Dave?”

Dutchy had been safe—Davey hadn’t known it at the time, of course, but they were the same, so it didn’t matter if he found out—they were kindred spirits, in a way that Davey had never known was possible. But Race? No, it was inconceivable that he was anything less than a real boy and despite Dutchy’s insistence that all the other newsies were fine with it, that didn’t make it any easier to accept that Race had found out this crucial fact about him, entirely against his will. 

Davey, once he was forced to breathe by his aching lungs, somewhat recovered from his shock and turned away, pressing his arms to the wall and laying his forehead against them, because looking at Race was entirely outside of the question at the moment. Even more so, he hated to think that Race was looking at him and seeing him for what he was. He felt completely exposed and he hated every second of it. “Why?” he murmured in a small voice. Why does everyone keep finding out?  

He was dimly aware of Race stepping towards him and reaching out a hand—Davey tensed, bracing for contact which was thoroughly unwelcome, but fortunately the touch never came. Maybe Race had decided against it in the end. It hardly mattered. “Davey, it don’ change nothin’. It’s just…new information…but you’se still the same to me.” 

“How—how can I believe that? Every—for years, every moment I’ve spent carefully learning how to go undetected. Make myself smaller so no one gives me a second glance!—and trust me, that’s hard, because I’ve never understood what’s expected of me and I hardly understand what other people want from me, even now. You can’t know what that’s like! But, I had finally got myself to a place where I thought things were good, I thought I was doing things right and if you found out, who’s to say—” The words spilled forth unbidden and Davey’s not sure when he would have stopped if not for Race’s interruption.

“ Davey. ” Race said firmly. Davey managed a glance in his direction. “I’se understand this is hard for you’se to see, but here, you don’t have to worry about people knowin’. Out there,” he vaguely motioned in the direction of the nearest window, “sure, maybe ya gotta hide. But here, you’se can just be yourself and we’ll see ya for who you are, it don’ much matter what’s underneath your clothes at the end of the day. Me knowin’ about this doesn’t mean ya did anything wrong. If anything, I’se…might have gone lookin’ for trouble.”

Davey let his arms fall away from the wall and took a step back, turning back to face Race fully. His previous anxiety was replaced instead by confusion, curiosity. “What?”

Race smiled and Davey registered it as somewhere between apologetic and nervous. “Well…there was that thing ya wouldn’t talk about, that reason you refused to talk to Jack about your feelings…I wasn’t about ta let that go, so…let’s just say I’se…did some investigatin’.”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “And by ‘investigating’, you mean…what exactly?” Several scenarios flitted through his mind and none warranted anything less than a slap. 

“About that, Davey, I’se reserve the right to protect my sources.” Racetrack replied, moving as though to leave.

“ Racetrack Higgins .”

Race turned back, wincing momentarily. “Fine. I…may have asked Les.” 

“What—you mean…he knows?” Davey wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that he wouldn’t have to tell him or horrified that his little brother might never again look up to him as a strong male role model. (Though, on second thought he wasn’t sure his brother had ever thought of him that way to begin with.)

“No, no, don’t worry. He was just as confused as I was—which, by the way, ain’t very fair if ya ask me—I just asked him some questions an’...pieced it together on my own.” Race explained almost humorously, though what was funny about the situation was lost on David. His only response to the other newsie’s retelling was a sigh of relief. Race regarded him rather skeptically. “Are ya really that worried ’bout Les findin’ out? He’s your brother, he deserves to know.”

“That’s…my business.”

“Okay, I’ll grant ya that, but my second order of business is that you’se should tell Jack. Both about you’se feelings and this.”

“Are you crazy ?” Davey shot back incredulously. He supposed he’d been foolish to think Race could truly grasp the severity of the situation, even now knowing the truth. “Don’t you see now that I can’t?”

“What could possibly be stoppin’ ya? I’ve told ya I don’ know how many times, Jack won’t care! Clearly, he likes both ladies and fellas, so it’s not like he would reject ya.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of! How will I ever know if he really sees me and wants me as a fella or if he likes me the way he likes a girl? And that’s if his feelings stay the same! I wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t see me that way anymore because I lied to him! Because things he might have wanted with me are suddenly impossible! Irrevocably different! And that’s all assuming he feels that way about me at all!”

Race shook his head and this time Davey knew exactly what was behind his expression—exasperation. “Davey, why do ya do this to yourself? Jack’s been smitten with you and I’se think that deep down you know it, too, you’se just too wrapped up in your own worryin’ to see it. And nothin’ you could say to ’im about this would change a thing about how he sees you—or how much he loves you.”

“I can’t do it.” Davey winced at the sound of his own voice.

“Can’t or won’t?” Race threw back, raising an eyebrow.

Davey squared his shoulders decisively. “Both.”

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, Les had watched Davey and Race leave the room with mild interest—it was easy enough to deduce that Race was finally putting his few days old revelation (which he still hadn’t bothered to fill Les in on, by the way!) to good use. Les’s eyes then wandered over to where Jack was standing, head leaning back against the bunk behind him, eyes closed, lips pursed in a whistle. He was the picture of boredom trying (rather poorly) to conceal itself in casual grace. 

He really thinks he’s gonna woo Davey this way, doesn’t he? Les couldn’t help shaking his head disappointedly at the thought. Maybe if Davey had been anyone else, sure, maybe then the flirting would have been successful, but surely Jack was supposed to know his friend and love better than that. It would appear Les would have to nip this erroneous plan in the bud before it started to cause Davey any serious health problems. (Davey needed to be handled delicately—thus far, Jack’s approach had been far too electrifying for Davey’s humble heart to bear.)

Les crossed the room. “Cowboy! I got a question for ya!” 

Jack straightened his head and opened his eyes, which promptly landed on Les and crinkled affectionately. Good. He wouldn’t see it coming. “Sure, whaddya need?”

“According to Sarah, you got feelings for someone else now.” He paused for dramatic effect but quickly got impatient, even for that. “No use hiding it from me. It’s Davey, isn’t it?”

Les watched Jack’s features slacken in shock at the suddenness of it all, mouth hanging open for a moment. This was promptly followed by subtly reddening cheeks and a hand dragging against his face in embarrassment. “Have I always been so transparent?”

“Pretty much.” Les affirmed with a nod. Truly, why were all the teenagers around him so clueless? “That’s not really what I’m worried about right now, though. More important is what you’re gonna do about it.”

Jack averted his eyes, fiddling with his shirt collar. “Dunno, I thought I’d…” He cracked a smile, a hint of his usual confidence shining through. “Try out my irresistible charms on ’im, y’know?”

Bingo. Well, not bingo, actually, seeing as Jack was trying to make a bingo with a crucial space missing. “Yeah, no. That’ll never work on my brother.” 

Jack chuckled, eyes glinting warmly, mouth quirking up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Ya sure about that? Seemed to be workin’ pretty well earlier.”

Les nearly stamped his foot in exasperation, but he was more mature than that. “If you consider making him nearly pass out because his mind has just utterly stopped and he forgot how to breathe successful, then sure, that’s working great for ya. But he’s not goin’ to get the message any time soon and he definitely won’t respond in any way other than just freezing up and gettin’ flustered. You need a new plan!”

Jack’s smile twitched as he thought this over. He shook his head and sighed. “I’se…didn’t realize I was messin’ him up so bad. I’se think his reactions are cute.”

“... Whatever .” Les rolled his eyes and decided to move swiftly along. “The point is, you need to be straightforward with Davey. That’s the only way he’ll actually believe ya have feelings for him. And the only way he’ll even think of mentioning his own feelings.” 

“Davey’s the one who’s got a way with words.” Uncertainty and doubt crept into Jack’s voice. “I don’t want to ruin this for him by sayin’ the wrong thing…”

“Just keep it simple. Ya won’t say the wrong thing. He just needs to hear it. From you .” Les insisted. 

Jack shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Has Dave always…been so…hesitant to talk ’bout his own feelings?” 

Les shrugged. “He’s got funny ideas about you an’ him. And about himself in general. That’s without even mentioning his secret.” 

Jack’s movement paused. “About that—”

“No, I don’t know what it is, so don’t ask me about that.” Les replied, crossing his arms in relative annoyance. “Now, will you talk to him? Please ?”

Jack nodded, a small, tentative smile making its way to his face. “Soon.” 

It can’t come soon enough . Les thought.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Dave, slow down!” Davey continued to press forward, eyes on the back of Les’s head, which kept blinking in and out of view as the boy zipped swiftly ahead of them. 

“Davey, wait up, would ya?” David needed to get home on time—if he was going to be returning to school soon, he needed to review the textbook he had borrowed from the library, if he was going to have any hope of catching up. The teachers wouldn’t be pleased if he fell behind, especially since he was returning nearly two months after the start of the school year. And if he fell behind, that would mean he would stick out more than he already did, when all he wanted to do most of the time was disappear. Worse, if he fell too far behind, he wasn't sure if he'd make it to graduation, and if he didn't make it to graduation, he’d never be able to—

“Davey!” Jack’s voice finally broke through the noise as Davey felt the other's hand close around his wrist, pulling him away from the main street and into an alley. Davey’s eyes soon had no choice but to snap up to meet Jack’s. He tried to inch backwards, only for his back to meet the wall. The two of them were close. Jack’s hand was warm on his wrist. An ache, which had nothing to do with his bindings, started in his chest. He was reminded of several similar situations, back during the strike. Jack smirked, further silencing Davey’s stray thoughts. “Now, I’se got your attention.” 

Weakly, Davey managed to murmur, over the pounding of his heart, “Les’ll be waiting and—”

“I told ’im to go on ahead without us. He’ll be just fine. Someone’ll walk ’im home. I, on the other hand, won’t be fine if I don’t talk to you right now. Just you’se, alone.”

“...is that why he’s been acting strange all day?”

“ Davey. ” Jack replied sternly, punctuating the unspoken command with a soft squeeze to Davey’s hand. (When had Jack’s hand migrated down to hold Davey’s?)

“Right.” Davey breathed, cheeks growing warmer by the second. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Jack closed his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath. (Bracing himself? For what? Was this bad news?) Jack’s eyes fluttered back open and he smiled. “Davey Jacobs, I’m in love with you.”

One second crawled by.

Then another.

And another.

“Sorry? I don’t think—”

“Ya heard me right. I’se in love with ya, Davey.”

David blinked. Jack was serious, wasn’t he? But then, Davey was never so good at telling apart people’s genuine feelings from the words they were saying. Jack was still holding his hand. Davey squeezed it, just slightly, just to make sure this was real. “Are…are you sure? Wha—what about Sarah?” 

Jack brought his free hand up to rest on Davey’s shoulder, then shook it lightly. “Davey, I’m talkin’ about you right now, not your sister. Obviously I’m not thinkin’ of Sarah no more. She’s my friend, but we’se never shoulda tried to be more. I was just too blind to see I had feelings for ya all along.” 

“All along?” Davey echoed dumbly, heart in his throat, caught between hope and disbelief. He looked away, lost in memories.

“Hey, Davey, look at me.” Davey obeyed. Jack had gotten closer, somehow. “ All along. When you’se came to rescue me from the Refuge and I yelled at ya? Not my proudest moment, but I wanted to kiss ya so bad and I—ha!—I convinced myself that it was just to teach you a lesson. When I saved ya from the Delanceys? I’se wanted to grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness, because I couldn’t bear to see that look on you’se face a minute longer. Do you need more examples? ’Cause I’se got plenty.”

“I-I get the message!” Davey breathed, flustered. He cleared his throat, suddenly painfully aware that he had to answer Jack’s confession. If only he could trust his voice not to betray him. He studied Jack for a moment, taking in the determined set of his features, the gentle curve of his fond smile. He could even make out the just barely perceptible tremor in the other’s hands and it struck Davey that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. 

Jack deserved the truth. Only, Davey wasn’t sure how much of it he could provide. He would try, he decided. Jack deserved as much. 

“Jackie, I—it’s not that I don’t feel the same, because I do, I really do…”

Jack beamed and, impulsive as ever, pulled Davey in for a hug. As Davey slowly returned the hug, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more of this he could take before coming undone. (He felt so at home in Jack’s arms.) 

As they pulled away, leaving just a small space between them, Jack’s smile shrank and his brow furrowed. “Why’s it sound like there’s a ‘but’ comin’?”

Davey avoided his gaze. “I love you, Jack. It’s just…we shouldn’t do this. Be together. No good will come of it, I promise you.”

“...How can you know that, Davey? We haven’t even tried! And if you’se scared of gettin’ arrested, I promise I’ll keep ya safe an’ outta trouble.” And Jack looked so goddamn earnest then that Davey believed him, wholeheartedly. Only—

“It’s not that.” Davey murmured quietly. He tried stepping away but was again met by the wall. “There are things you don’t know about me.”

“Then tell me! I’ll learn! Please, Davey. Please .” Jack was pleading by now. And when had Davey been able to refuse him? 

He was still going to try. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” 

“I just can’t, alright?”

“I just—I don’t get it. I love you, you love me. Why shouldn’t we be together? Gimme one good reason.”

Davey couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed Jack away roughly. “Because, Jack, I’m not who you think I am! I’m not a boy! At least—” His voice broke. He hated it. “—not the way you think I am.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Jack looked thoroughly perplexed. (Davey didn’t blame him.)

“I’ll never be a real man. I…I was born a girl. And…I can never change that fact. No matter what I do. So…I can’t be the boy of your dreams, alright? That’s why—that’s why this can’t work.” Davey’s throat burned and ached with the weight of tears he was leaving unshed. He willed the moisture he felt building in his eyes to stop. He noticed he was shaking.

Jack’s eyebrows knitted together in what rationally seemed to be concern. The shame gripping Davey thought it looked an awful lot like pity. Jack stepped forward and Davey didn’t have the heart to step away, most of the fight having drained out of him. Jack’s hands rose to cup Davey’s cheeks, the touch so gentle—like Davey was something precious to be cherished—and Davey was startled when Jack started thumbing away tears he hadn’t even been aware were falling. 

“...That’s what this is about?” A nod. “Davey, I’m glad ya told me…but things ain’t like you’se think. I love you. I loved you before ya told me, and I’ll be lovin’ you, if you’ll have me, for as long as you’se want.”

“That’s…beautiful, but you can’t seriously expect me to believe that nothing has changed?” Davey’s voice broke, as tears continued to roll down his cheeks and Jack continued to wipe them away.

“Well, of course it changes some things.” There was a trace of suggestiveness to his tone that made Davey’s already ailing cheeks burn harder. “But it don’t change how much I love ya and it certainly won’t go ruinin’ things like ya seem to think.” 

Several beats of silence passed as Davey processed this, grounded by the feeling of Jack’s hands on his face. “You’re—you’re serious?”

Jack smiled softly and leaned ever so slightly closer. “Yup. Completely.” 

This time, it was Davey who desperately grasped at Jack for a hug, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder. “I…I never thought…” he muttered weakly, voice partially muffled by the way his face was positioned.

“Davey, there are plenty o’ boys like you in the lodging house and I’m their leader. How could I hold this against you’se?” Jack was stroking Davey’s hair now. 

Davey shook his head lightly. His mind had conjured endless scenarios of how Jack might one day reject him, romantically or otherwise. Most didn’t make sense; some still made him question what was happening right now. “Dunno.” 

Eventually, Davey managed to pull himself together enough to pull away and wipe his tears with the back of his hand. Jack smiled at him and asked gently, “Feelin’ better?”

“Yeah.” Davey nodded.

Jack’s smile widened. “Then, will you be my sweetheart?”

Davey still couldn’t believe this was happening. His wildest daydreams could never conjure up this turn of events. “Yes, I’ll be your sweetheart.” There was a fluttering in his chest and for once it felt pleasant rather than shameful.

Chapter Text

Les heard Davey’s key turning in the lock before he saw the boy himself. Both he and Sarah glanced up from what they were doing at the kitchen table—he was playing solitaire, she was peeling potatoes. It’d been a while since he’d gotten home—he had started to wonder what was taking so long. 

As Davey stepped over the threshold, it became apparent that something had happened—he was smiling, as though enjoying his own private joke, and his cheeks were flushed with more than just the chill in the air. His fingers were flexing animatedly at his sides, drawing the eye with their excitement. 

“David, you’re smiling.” Sarah observed, amused. 

From her place at the tiny kitchen counter, chopping vegetables, Mama chimed in, “Good day today, then?” 

Davey shrugged, smile remaining firmly on his face while he put his bag on the back of one of the chairs. “Yeah.”

“Did something happen with…” Les held up one of his cards, “ Jack , then?” (He was actually quite proud of that pun.)

“Well—I mean—when are things not happening with Jack…right?” 

Sarah set down her potato, mouth falling open with excitement. “Oh my gosh, did Jack—” Her laughter nearly sounded like a squeal. “Are the two of you a pair , now?”

Mama, too, stopped what she was doing to look up and over at Davey. “David, is that true?” Les thought it was funny how even their mother was invested in this. 

Davey blushed, trapped and eventually nodded, albeit reluctantly. He bounced his leg energetically as he tried to find his words. “Well, if you all must know, then…yes.”

Sarah grinned, getting up from her seat to thump Davey proudly on the back, only to receive a weak, “Ow” in response. “Well, don’t just leave us in suspense! How did it happen?”

Davey glanced away and to the side. “Do you need all the details?”

Les nodded quickly. “Yes, we do actually. It was agonizing to watch the two of you dance around each other, so we deserve at least this much!” 

Davey sat down in one of the free chairs. He bit his lip, as though choosing his words carefully. Les wished he would be less careful and just spit it out already. “Uh, well. He told me how he felt about me. I…I told him there were things he didn’t know about me. That…we couldn’t be together. He basically pried the truth out of me and told me it didn’t change how he felt. So. We’re sweethearts now.”

Les groaned. “Again with this secret I don’ know about! You really can’t tell me? I’m your brother . If Jack knows, I should get to know.” 

“Les…” Mama warned, voice almost testy. Meanwhile, Sarah was looking at Davey meaningfully and it seemed they were having their own silent conversation. 

“Mama, it’s okay.” Davey assured, bowing his head and slumping his shoulders. “He deserves to know.” 

Finally , Les thought victoriously. Finally he would be able to understand the glances and weird comments his family exchanged. Finally he would know what had made Davey so hesitant to share his feelings with the person he was so madly in love with. 

“See…” Davey began, obviously hesitant. Les watched him shift uncomfortably. “I’m your big brother, right? And I’m always gonna be your brother, no matter what…but…um…” Davey bit his lip uneasily. Sarah moved towards him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. Davey’s eyes darted towards her before snapping back to Les. “You’ve always known me as your brother…but…when I was born…Sarah knew me as—as her sister.”

Les blinked. “What—what do you mean? You’re David!” 

Davey was silent for a while, presumably gathering his thoughts. Les didn’t miss the way he leaned against Sarah, as though for strength. He may not have quite understood what was happening, but he knew whatever it was was big, so he wanted to figure it out fast. 

“I’m not a boy in the same way you are, Les.” Davey finally met Les’ eyes, albeit with something fragile and raw in his gaze. It wasn’t that Les had never seen it before—it was often present as a brief flash when certain comments were made or someone touched Davey in a way he didn’t like—it’s just that Les didn’t know what to do when that look was laid bare, stripped of pretense, no longer hidden. “I was born a girl. And…that doesn’t mean I’m lying or pretending. I’m just…I am a boy. Always have been. I’m sorry for not telling you. I just…I guess I liked having a little brother who doesn’t remember ever seeing me as anyone else.” 

Les mulled this over. It certainly answered nearly every question he’d ever had. He didn’t feel the rushed excitement of a revelation—instead it felt like the relief of finally coming to a natural conclusion, of finally having answers. 

He rushed forward to hug Davey, wrapping his arms around him firmly, waiting until Davey’s tension melted before glancing up at him. “What didja think was gonna happen when ya told me?”

Davey laughed nervously. “I dunno.”

“You worry too much.” Sarah teased as she joined in on the hug. 

“Yeah, the sky didn’t fall or nothin’. You’re still plain ol’ Davey to me.” Les murmured honestly. “...You make a lot more sense now though.” 

Davey chuckled warmly, clearly pleased by this turn of events. Les decided against the string of teasing he had already concocted earlier about how he was right about Jack and Davey—the moment was complete without it. 

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks. Two glorious weeks.

Davey was keeping a running mental list of every way that Jack had managed to fluster him in those two weeks. He had thought Jack was hard to handle before ? Turns out, being Jack’s beau comes with a whole new world of mind-melting, heart-stopping, dazzling moments. 

The list, you might ask? Davey would never admit to having one out loud, let alone share it, but it went a little something like this:

1. The first morning, David nearly jumped out of his skin when he glanced out the window of his room and saw Jack waiting half-asleep on the fire escape. It wasn’t the first time Jack had done that—but it was the first time that Davey knew with absolute certainty that Jack was here, at this hour, for him. The thought warmed him.
2. He’d nearly considered not coming to the window, pretending he hadn’t noticed Jack there—that’s how reluctant he was to be seen right then. (He could think of about thirty different things that were wrong with his appearance, starting with the fact that he wore no bindings under his sleepwear.) He had had to remind himself that Jack hadn’t run away when he’d been honest with him—they were sweethearts, now. Ultimately, the side of him that felt bad seeing Jack sitting there won out. He pushed open the window and greeted Jack. In return, he got a quick peck on the cheek, a warm greeting, and, by way of explanation, “Couldn’t wait to see ya. Wanted to make sure it was all real. And…it is. You’se adorable like this, all sleep-rumpled.” Davey momentarily forgot how to breathe.
3. Jack chuckled, “Sorry, too much?” His eyes were filled to the brim with affection. Davey absently wondered how he’d ever thought his feelings were unreciprocated or that Jack’s love might be conditional. He was a beat too late by the time his reply tumbled out. 
4. Over breakfast, Pa ‘casually’ joked that Jack had to take good care of David, much to Davey’s dismay. His flash of mortification was promptly chased away by Jack turning to him with a confident, easy smile, a hand on his shoulder, and the words “Yeah, I’ll always keep ya safe, Dave, ya hear?” 
5. They held hands on the way to the distribution center. (Davey thought his palm was too sweaty, but Jack thankfully never commented on it.)
6. That night, Jack insisted on walking Davey and Les home. (Davey wasn’t sure what exactly about that flustered him—it was something Jack did fairly often anyway, so he’s not sure why this time was any different, but he could feel that it was, somehow.)
7. Day 2 saw the Delanceys looking at Davey sideways and Jack coming to stand beside him, physically putting himself between them. It was simple, small—yet, the subtle protective act made Davey’s heart beat faster.
8. Later that day, Davey, somehow, got a splotch of ink from one of his papes on his nose. Jack reached out to wipe it away like it was nothing, leaving Davey speechless for several seconds.
9. Come Day 3, Jack managed to call Davey ‘handsome’ or ‘pretty’ a minimum of four times. 
10.  When Davey pulled Jack in for a hug goodnight, Jack lingered a few moments longer than necessary. When asked, he replied, “What, can’t I enjoy my sweetheart’s touch?”
11.  On Day 4, Davey finally broke the news to Jack that his return to school was imminent—admittedly, he’d forgotten to mention it in the mess of the past few weeks. Jack frowned thoughtfully, pulling Davey into a side hug, fingers tapping restlessly against Davey’s waist. “Things was just gettin’ good,” he murmured wistfully. Davey smiled softly, “I’ll still come sell the evening pape. It’s not like I’ll be completely gone, don’t worry.” “I know, I know, and you’se deserve it. Don’ mean I won’t miss ya though.” “I’ll miss you too, Jackie.” “...And if any of those boys mess wit’ you again, you’se tell me, okay?” Davey reddened and averted his gaze bashfully—he’d forgotten that he’d told Jack about that. “...I…yeah.”
12.  “Stay,” Jack implored on Day 5 from where he was lounging casually on his bunk, “Just a while longer, yeah?” Davey felt his cheeks redden reflexively as he met Jack’s eyes briefly, then looked down at the floor. “C’mere.” Jack insisted when Davey didn’t reply. Davey’s not sure what gave him away: maybe the way his body stiffened at the suggestion or maybe the way he glanced nervously around. (It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. God, he did. Just…not with everyone around.) “...How about we’se go up to the roof, then?” As Davey nodded his agreement, he had never felt so blessed, so understood.
13.  “Remind me why I agreed to this?” Davey asked as he stepped onto the roof, the chill of the autumn air hitting his face. “Easy. ’Cause I asked ya.” Jack replied cheekily. The rosy cheeks suddenly had nothing to do with the cold.
14.  A few minutes later, they were sitting close together, legs resting against each other, Jack’s arm around Davey’s shoulders, nose buried in the latter’s hair. By now, Davey had relaxed into the contact, in fact, after some brief back-and-forth debate with himself, he had even reached out to tentatively place a hand on Jack’s knee. The pleased hum and muffled, “This’s nice,” that followed were all the confirmation Davey needed to settle further into the moment, letting his eyes slide shut peacefully.

The list went on, with such significant items as #19 on Day 7, with Jack waiting outside the school gates for him after his first day back at school; #22 happened on Day 9, when Jack was over for dinner, narrowed his eyes at Davey, then reminded him to loosen his bindings because he’d been wincing all day; #25 came when Davey found a note from Jack tucked into his school bag on Day 10; on Day 12, Jack was over and David was trying and failing to do his math homework, so much so that tears of frustration were prickling at his eyes—Jack wrapped his arms around him and pressed a gentle kiss to Davey’s temple, murmuring something about how Davey was the smartest boy he knew, firmly establishing item #30; not to mention #32 on Day 13, when Jack made a show of adjusting Davey’s scarf and kissing his nose. 

Needless to say, it had been a lot. A part of Davey still couldn’t believe that any of it was real. He’d spent so long thinking he couldn’t have something like this or didn’t deserve it—it took him time to get used to Jack’s freely given affection. 

He shifted his head to look up at Jack from where he was currently nestled against Jack’s side, the two of them sitting on Jack’s bed, legs tangled, hands intertwined. They were in full view of the others now, but Davey no longer cared. 

Jack’s eyes were closed in repose—not asleep, Davey knew, from the way his free hand was bobbing to some tune only Jack could hear. Davey watched him for a second, then leaned over to press a kiss, featherlight, to his cheek. Because that was something he could do now. 

Jack’s eyes fluttered open and met his, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as he turned his head just slightly to face Davey better. He said nothing, but he wore his happiness plainly, obviously pleased. Davey watched the subtle movement of his lips, wanting to memorize the shape of his smile. Belatedly, Davey realized that he could do that, now, too, and more than just looking . 

Davey shifted closer, a hand coming up to cradle the cheek he hadn’t kissed. He heard Jack breathe in—not sharply, just…waiting. Hopeful. Davey leaned in until there was no space left to close, kissing him softly. For once, he didn’t have time to wonder whether he was doing this right or whether it was a bad idea—he just went for it, eyes sliding shut as he felt Jack kiss back, free hand settling gently at Davey’s waist. 

There were no fireworks, but to Davey, it was infinitely better—not loud and showy, just warm and safe. 

Once, not that long ago, he’d been convinced he was Icarus—too trusting of his wings for his own good, loving the sun too much, doomed by his own foolishness. It was never that, Davey knew now. 

He loved a good metaphor as much as the next person, but, really, there was no need for one. Davey Jacobs and Jack Kelly could love each other without having to make some grand allusion. 

They just had to trust each other.