His Thing

Chapter 7

Jack chuckled as he lifted Davey's head, kissing him after staring into his river blue eyes. "Now, I believe I promised you food."

Davey hummed, wrapping his arms around Jack's neck. "A sandwich, specifically."

Jack smirked as he leaned in, getting closer to Davey. They locked lips with a smile, Jack pulling away as Davey pouted. "You're not distractin' me."

Davey sighed, shrugging. "A man can try."

"You's gonna eat."

Davey smiled and kissed Jack's cheek. "I really like you."

Jack looked into his shining blue eyes, noticing how the almost nonexistent sun hit them just right. Should I? "I really like you, too."

Davey smiled and grabbed Jack's hand. "I guess I can eat your sandwich."

Jack chuckled, leading him down the street.

Davey followed blindly, not sure of where he was going. He knew Jack would do anything to keep him out of danger, but he still had the small amount of distrust to at least keep him alive for another score.

Jack stopped suddenly, Davey running into him. He smiled at his love, glancing back at the building. "Welcome to Jacobi's, the best place for a pastrami on rye."

Davey chuckled at Jack's enthusiasm, crossing his arms. "And what makes this place so good?"

"Well, all you gotta do is ask any Newsie livin' through the streets of these Burroughs."

Davey smiled and looked around the place. It was fancy, but in a homely way. He's sure he's been here before, but he also knows he hasn't. The building was like one big symbol of nostalgia. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Jack grabbed Davey's hand, pushing open the door. "How you doin', Mr. Jacobi?"

An older man looked up, and sighed. "Jack Kelly."

Davey laughed at his exasperated expression. He was way older than them, and a bit older than Medda, from what Davey could tell. He wore small, circular glasses on his nose, somehow fitting his round face perfectly. His brown hair was wearing thin on his head, and his apron had stains and small holes through it. But he was a kind man.

A kind man clearly very tired of the famous Jack Kelly.

Nonetheless, he walked them over to a window seat, placing a cup of water before both of them.

"What can I get for you, sir?" Davey smiled at his accent, liking the way it sounded. "I'm afraid I've never seen you around."

"I'll take a regular sub", Davey answers. "And thank you. I've- this is my first time here."

"Ah, well, welcome", Mr. Jacobi smiles, turning towards Jack. "And for you, Mr. Kelly. I guess the usual."

"Yeah, I'll take a...pastrami on rye bread, no pickle", Jack smirks. Davey grins. He's definitely charming.

"My prayers have been answered", Mr. Jacobi mutters, his words laced with sarcasm. Davey giggled and Jack smiled at him as the older man walked away.

"So", Davey starts, looking around. "You sure know your way around the place."

"Well, I gotta know my people in order to rule my people", Jack says, looking outside of the window. "I know every poor person and gutter rat that ever walked these streets, that ever walked any street."

Davey smiled lovingly. "Why?"

Jack glanced back at him, nodding. "All we got is each other. The cops hate us, the rich people step on our necks...all we got is us."

Davey looked out of the window, watching all the people walk by. He realized the heart of the city were the ones that struggled to keep it alive. The ones working out of town to clean homes in Buffalo, the ones serving at the restaurants and keeping tourist shops open.

The ones working and getting hurt in the factories...

He guessed he was one of those people, too.

"My dad's in the hospital", he admits, looking into Jack's deep brown eyes. "He busted his arm at the factory...Momma's taking him home today."

"Baby, I'm so sorry", Jack whispered, moving to Davey's side of the table. He grabbed his hand secretly, looking at him with pity. Davey sighed as looked away.

"Don't look at me like that", he muttered, glancing back into his eyes. "I get the looks at my house enough."

Jack half-smiled and watched as Mr. Jacobi placed their sandwiches down. He looked at Davey, kissing his hand discreetly. "Then I'll only look at you with love."

Davey blushed as he stared at his sandwich, picking it up and looking out of the window. Jack chuckled and grabbed his own.

——————

"You are beautiful", Jack complimented, smirking cockily. Davey groaned as he opened the doors to the theater. "And I wish all I could do in life was kiss you-"

"Jack", Davey whined, turning to him sternly. "You're going to make me turn into a tomato."

"Well, don't do that", the taller warned, placing his hands on Davey's cheeks. "Because then I won't be able to-"

"Jack, where the hell have you been?!" The two boys looked up to see Race walking towards them. "Hey, Davey."

"Hello, Race."

"Jack, Spotty needed to see you hours ago", Race says, taking his cigar out of his mouth. "You know he don't like to wait."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you know very well about that", Jack laughed, not taking him too seriously. "What does he need me for anyway? We ain't got nothin' for him."

"One of his boys got jailed up here by some scary cop", Race responds, crossing his arms. "Fucker talkin' about he sendin' some kind of message."

Davey felt like he was intruding. He didn't really get involved with Jack's "Newsie stuff", but sometimes it seemed like way more than just a bunch of kids selling newspapers. "Jackie, I'm gonna go home, okay?"

"Okay, baby. Want me to walk you?"

"It's light enough outside", Davey notices, smiling softly. "I can walk myself."

Jack kisses the shorter passionately, not sure where it came from. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Davey nodded through his blush, a permanent smile on his face. Jack kissed his forehead before he left, leaving the leader and the second alone.

"Ready for the longest walk of your life?"

"I can walk to Brooklyn in my sleep."

"Yeah, I'm sure Spot appreciates that. Strong legs, and all."

"I will kill you."

"Then I'll have your ass in Hell."