Strikes and Ladders

Chaptet Nineteen: Parties and Panic

Another loud shout of his name causes him to wince, which gains him a small wave and a resigned shrug from Spot. After a short jog over to them he adjusts his bag on his shoulder awkwardly and asks what they're doing there, at the school.

"Well Mouth, someone thought that you might be lonely of all things, bein' away from us for so long. I told 'im he was crazy, but he managed to drag me all the way out here anyway, on accounta... his persuasion." The last bit is accompanied by a wink from Spot and a startled flush from Davey. "You know how he is."

Race preens at the perceived complement. "Yeah Dave, you know how I am." He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially to Davey, "Dead sexy, ain't I?"

Davey sputters and pushes him away into the fence. God, that grin. Everything from the night before comes rushing back to hit him, and he realises suddenly that he did miss them. It hadn't even been a full day, and yet, he is happy for their warm familiarity, their relaxed touches, it is easy , especially compared to the cold and ostracising air of the school. The last few months have ruined him for any large group but the newsies, he thinks miserably as they walk away. Spot seems on edge for some reason, but Spot is almost always on edge outside of Brooklyn, and usually in Brooklyn too, he's just kind of an edgy guy, so Davey just brushes it off and fiddles with the bracelet from Crutchie that rests gently on his wrist. He listens to Race ramble on about his day.

The others seem oblivious to it, even Spot as he slowly loosens up the further away they get from the school, but Davey is tense. Last night changed his view on his friendship with the two other boys. He is so distracted that he just follows his friends as they walk, not even realising until they are there that Medda's theatre is their destination. His attention finally returns when Race finally stops prattling on and actually directly speaks to him.

"We're here! Since we couldn't do anything for you this mornin', Medda let us use the theatre tonight to have a get together. Everyone's waitin' inside! Denton, Crutch, Albert, even Katherine. Your brother and sister too."

Davey can't talk. His eyes flick back and forth from Spot to Race and back again several times as his mouth opens and closes like a fish. He's touched.

Spot smirks. "Yeah, we know Mouth, we're very kind and generous and all that. Now get in, everyone's waitin'."

And what else can you do when the King of Brooklyn gives you an order but follow it? Especially when Davey feels the way he does about him. He thinks he'd probably do whatever Spot asked anyway, even without the title. That's what you do for your friends. Except for the fact that he's in love with this friend's boyfriend. That... is still problematic. Even so, he gets himself inside and lets himself be drowned in cheers and pats on the back from mostly Manhattan newsies.

At some point, Race slings an arm around Davey's shoulders and it doesn't leave. Eventually, the three of them, like always, find a quiet place to sit, just them. The din of the party is muffled through the door of the dressing room they find. Spot, is a move that would be surprising if Davey were anyone but himself, leans on Davey and puts his bad leg out across the rest of the bench. There isn't any room for Race to sit down, but that's okay because he's busy pacing around the room talking about... something. He's talking so fast that he can't focus on the words. Something about it makes him antsy.

"Race, sugar, sit down. You're makin' Dave anxious." Spot says, his voice somewhere in the space between gentle and reprimanding.

Davey and Race both look at him, the latter stopping in his tracks. The former catalogues his mannerisms. No bouncing leg, no fidgeting hands, no humming. Then, he blurts out "How'd you know?"

"Know what?" Spot replies, lifting his leg up to allow Race under it. The blonde immediately gets the calf in his hands and starts absentmindedly massaging it and it hits Davey how domestic it all is.

"That I was gettin' a bit nervous."

A shrug. "I know you. The rhythm of your breathin', your jaw clenched a bit. I don't know, I could just tell."

The feeling in the pit of Davey's stomach is back. His chest clenches and he can't focus on it because then Spot is looking away from him like he hasn't just pulled a rug out from under him. Knowing that he doesn't need to, that this is the second time recently, Davey says hasty goodbyes and leaves the room.

"I need to find Katherine," He whispers to himself miserably.