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English
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Part 1 of Falmer Fics
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Published:
2019-01-21
Updated:
2019-12-09
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3,856
Chapters:
6/?
Comments:
62
Kudos:
65
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Falmer Shortfics, Oneshots, and Other Stories!

Summary:

This is just a collection of fics for an extreme rarepair, which (because I don't know if it even has a name) I have dubbed "Falmer"!

WARNING!!! May contain: fluff, lots of description of photos, possible later angst, a whole buttload of gay, and rarepairing all to hell!

(But fr, I will tag individual chapters in the tags list, and also give warnings at the beginning of each chapter if there ever is any possibly triggering material! If I miss something, let me know!)

Notes:

Gifted to the amazing @dyingpoet here on ao3, give them some love because their sprace is literally the best ever and I love them!
Prompt is from the amazing @tinyballofwrath on tumblr! Go check them out too!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Photo Cycles and Penguin Cuddles

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

     White, fluffy, fun, ice and joy. 

     Finch laughed as he spun, looking up into the sky as the snowflakes danced around him. He took a moment to breathe in the crisp air before coming back to the ground. He grabbed his camera and slung it around his neck, before beginning to wander around the frozen gardens. 

     “Don’t be too long babe! We gotta be at Jack’s for 6!” Finch turned to Albert and Elmer, wrapped up in their winter jackets and holding steaming cups of coffee and hot cocoa, respectively.  

     He shot them a smile and a quick “Of course! Love you two!” and began to delve further into the gardens, snapping pictures as he went. The way the fading afternoon light glinted off the branches and needles of the evergreens, the orange tinted snow piled on the bushes and maples, the glistening ice-coated weeping willows. He crouched low and stretched high, trying to get the perfect angles and flares. 

     It was almost cyclical, his movement through the half dormant park. He took wide shots of a glade surrounded by pines and dripping with ivy, and macro ones of clusters of holly berries and miniature icicles hanging off the hedges. Hundreds of photos, dark and light, bathed in sunset hues and blue shadows.  

     By the time he came back to his boyfriends, the last bits of fading light were just straining through the trees. The two were leaned against the trunk of one of the weeping willows, Elmer drifting off on Albert's shoulder while the redhead gazed at him fondly. Finch snapped a picture just as Albert rested his cheek on the top of Elmer’s head, the last bits of red glow glancing off the frosted boughs and catching their soft smiles. As the moment left and the camera was lowered, Finch called out to the other two boys, who like him had worn all black, excepting a white hand-knit scarf from Crutchie. 

     “You two look like penguins.” 

     They both stared at him, with an uncannily similar facial expression that screamed unimpressed. He gave them a lopsided smile. “It’s adorable.” The two flushed, Elmer’s soft against his tan skin while Albert’s nearly matched his hair. He carefully placed his camera in his bag before wrapping his arms around them both, and gently kissing them each on the cheek. “Let’s get to Jack’s, yeah?” 

     Elmer gave a contented sigh. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see the fellas all together again. Plus, I heard Specs was cooking, and Crutchie’s definitely baked something good, so it’s gonna be a good night all around.” 

     “Then let’s get a move on. If we get there last there won’t be nothing left,” Albert said, before sprinting off to the car. Finch and Elmer walked a bit slower, gloved hands intertwined, before climbing into the backseat. They buckled in, Albert playing some soft music and Finch pulling Elmer in closer, so that their boyfriend could get some shuteye in before the chaos that was their friends. As the freckled boy softly snored, the other two shared a fond glance in the rear-view mirror. They wouldn’t trade this life for the world. 

Notes:

EDITED BY ME AND MY BETA, THE EVER LOVELY Mr_Fizzles, AS OF 10:36pm PST JANUARY 25, 2019!!!

Chapter 2: Watchful Eye

Summary:

Specs was always watching over his brothers, he always knew what was going on with the other boys. He saw who was drawn to whom. With all that saw, things became humdrum. The exception? A redheaded firecracker, a freckled hugger, and a slingshot wielding brunette.

Notes:

This is for the anon commenter under the name "hnnnngh i cant think of a name"! This one really got away from me. It does have bits about other couples, and it's written from the outside perspective of one Speccy Boi, but the main focus is on Falmer. Hope you like it friend!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Mentions of Violence (very briefly mentioned because the strike lads)
-Mentions of Gore (not graphic, mentions of their injuries from the strike, just Al, Finch, and Elmer)
-Mild Sexual Content (horny bois, brief mention with jack/crutchie/davey, and less brief but still not graphic mention with Falmer near the end)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

     Specs was quiet. He was observant. He knew more about the other newsies than they maybe knew about themselves. He saw everything each of them tried to hide from the others. He watched, he waited, he looked out for his brothers. 

 

~~~ 

 

     He knew about Jack, Crutchie, and Davey before anyone else. He saw the way the three would drift closer to each other, selling partners more often than not. Many a night he would see Jack and Crutchie go to Jack’s penthouse in the sky, and if one were to squint, they would make out the figure of David climbing up the fire escape. In the dead of night Specs often heard the tell-tale giggles, the hushed conversations, the quiet moans through the night-time air. He saw all of this, and he kept the others from doing the same. 

 

~~~ 

 

     He knew about Race and Spot before the two newsies knew it themselves. He saw the stolen glances, the flushed cheeks, the bitten off smiles. He took note of the way Spot would let Race and only Race sell at Sheepshead, and the ever-increasing invites to the Brooklyn poker nights. He saw Race trip over his words anytime Spot was around, he saw Spot melt anytime Race so much as sent a smile his way. He was there when they figured it out, each in their own time. The fear, the anxiety, but the hope. 

     And when they kissed in the closet of the Duane Street Lodgings? He smiled and closed the door, keeping the other boys away. 

 

~~~ 

 

     He knew about Jojo, Tommy Boy, Henry, and Buttons without any effort at all. Those boys... Specs shook his head. They were very bad at subtlety. They were always selling together, always by each others’ sides, always brushing shoulders and bumping arms. At the lodging house they never slept alone. They made excuses, it was more affordable to push two beds together and all four split the cost, it was colder on their own, etcetera. The other boys shrugged and took the excuses at face value. Specs simply sighed and covered for them when they weren’t there to do it themselves. 

 

~~~ 

 

     The three he took most interest in were the three who took their sweet time. 

     Albert, Elmer, and Finch. They danced around each other with more expertise than Medda’s Burlesque girls. It was almost entrancing to see the way they seemed to move in orbits, overlapping cycles that never met. Specs watched it all unfold from his spot as a fly on the wall, peering through his thick, round glasses at each of the boys individually. 

     Albert was the easiest to figure out. His pale complexion made it obvious when he flushed. His normally excited and brash exterior shattered when either Finch or Elmer was around, and this anxious side came out in full force anytime they both were. Despite his fear and flustered appearance, he still lit up when he talked to them, sold with them, when they entered a room. To anyone clever enough to look, it was clear that he loved those boys, probably more than he knew what to do with. 

     Elmer was a little less obvious. That boy was friendly with everyone. He was tactile with all of them, but none more than Albert and Finch. He always had an arm around a shoulder, a hand on the back, a bump of a hip. He never sold with anyone but the redhead and brunette. His smiles came easier around them, and his laughter fonder than with anyone else. He was less loud, but just as in love. 

     Finch was the toughest of them all. At first, even Specs was unsure of him. He was more reserved, didn’t blush easy, wasn’t keen to touch. His smiles were easy but closed. But if you made the effort to look closer, to pay attention, you could read him like a book. 

     His eyes said everything he couldn’t, everything he wouldn’t dare say aloud. Even when nothing about his body or smile gave him away, his eyes spoke loud and clear. The warmth when the freckled boy or redhead entered a room. The fear and bags under them if either of the two were sent to the refuge. The nervousness when he said something that could be taken as romantic. The saying “The eyes are the window to the soul,” had never been more true. 

~

     Specs watched these three and waited. For years they circled, coming close but never quite aligning. From the time the three had turned 14, Specs only a year older, they had done this dance. It continued on and on, until the youngers turned 16 and Specs was nearly aged out. Until the strike. 

     The strike came and bulls beat them within an inch of their lives. Elmer took the least injuries, a few bruises here and there. He was inseparable from the other two, Finch with a black eye and Albert with a cut along his upper arm. Finch had to hold a screaming Elmer back as Specs stitched up Albert’s wound, and the taller boy was also barely holding back tears for the first time in the four years that Specs had known him. The minute the spectacled boy has finished bandaging Albert the other two were holding him tight, whispering to each other in teary voices. Specs drew back and let them have their moment, safe in the backroom Kloppman kept open for patching up the reckless newsboys. 

     That night was not the night he had to guard the door and keep the others’ noses out of it. No, that time wouldn’t come for weeks. 

~

     “We won!” Those words were ringing around the heads of every newsboy in New York. The night they won the strike was one of wild parties, Medda’s theatre open to the successful strikers. Celebration rang through the crowd, and bottles were passed around. If you closely at the catwalks and in the corners, you could spot those too drunk on victory and liquor to care about who saw. Off to his left, Specs saw a slightly open door, with three boys standing by it. Finch stood shocked as Albert and Elmer each wrapped their arms around him and planted a kiss on each cheek and froze for a moment before pulling them closer and smiling larger and more genuine than Specs had ever seen. He whispered something to the two of them and drew them into the open room. Specs saw the flash of a bed before a shirt flew past the visible crack. He chuckled to himself and hurried to close the door. It seemed to be just in time, as not long after he heard a long, low moan from what sounded like Elmer. 

     Making sure the door was locked, Specs quickly turned away with hot cheeks. As he left for a new area to stand, room being scarce, he felt himself drawn into another open room. He smiled as he looked in nearby mirror and saw Romeo grinning back at him. 

     As much as he looked to others, he still saw this coming. 

Notes:

Heya!
I hope y'all liked it! This one took itself and ran, and completely deviated from my original plan. It added other couples that I didn't anticipate and was a lot of fun to write. It was really cool to write the building of Falmer from Specs' perspective, and it allowed me to take an outsiders perspective. If you enjoyed it drop a comment and kudos. Didn't like it? Tell me why! My grammar and spelling are atrocious? Let me know (in a kind way)!
Hope y'all are having a great day/night/week!
Sincerely,
~The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)

Chapter 3: We're Hand in Hand, Chest to Chest, And Now We're Face to Face

Summary:

Finch loves his boyfriends, he really does. He does not love his boyfriends yelling to each other from either side of him. He's tried threatening to bash their heads together, now it's time to get creative.

Notes:

Back at it again with a @tinyballofwrath (Tumblr) ot3 prompt. Loosely based, loosely based. Yes the chapter title is from "Don't Stop the Music" by Rihanna, I listened to the Treblemakers cover from Pitch Perfect while writing this.

*A and B won’t stop talking*
C: If you two don’t stop talking I’m going to bash your heads together.
A= Alb, B= Elm, C= Finch
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Sexual Content (no hardcore smut, making out and grinding are in there though, and hickies and other little reminders ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )
-Drinking/Mentions of Drinking (they are at one of Jack's parties, Finch and Albert drink, some of the boys get a little smashed, some get more than a little)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

     Saturday night found the boys at the Kelly-Jacobs-Morris household. Jack had decided to hold a party, like they used to back in high school. The difference? The house was larger (thanks to the salaries of three young men), and so was the friend group. The house was open floor plan on the lower level, allowing for people to flow from the kitchen and dining room across the living room and general area. The patio doors were wide open, allowing the warm summer breeze to flow through the dancefloor. The drinks were flowing, the music was jamming, and everyone was having a great time. 

     Finch, Albert, and Elmer were sat outside on the porch. The house was loud, and the three wanted to be able to talk without shouting. Well, at least that was what Finch had wanted... Albert and Elmer continued to yammer on loudly. Finch was nursing a rum and coke, Albert a margherita, and Elmer (not really a fan of alcohol) was sipping on a can of coke. After Albert had shouted about how cute that pig was (and Elmer had squealed in response) for the umpteenth time, Finch finally snapped. 

     “If you two don’t stop shouting I’m going to bash your heads together.” Really, it was a sigh more than anything, one that was world weary and screamed why. The redhead and other brunette simply leaned their heads on his shoulders in terrifying synchronization. 

     “Aww Finchy, you love us.” 

     “If you wanted to dance instead, we could do that babe?” 

     Finch smiled. Albert was right, he did love them, and Elmer was also right; why talk (see: shout) when they could be dancing. “Yeah, let’s dance.” 

~~~

     While Finch appreciated that they had tried, half an hour later he was in the same position; Alb yelling from one side while Elm yelled from the other. By now though, he was pleasantly buzzed, and had a much better idea than threatening them; seducing them. 

     His plan started by going over to Crutchie, who was playing DJ for the night, and requesting a particular song. Crutchie just gave him a look, his patented ‘I know what you’re up to and I will allow it this once, ya nasty’. A surprisingly common one, though not usually directed at Finch. Finch just winked. 

     Step 2; get their attention. Finch went back over to his boyfriends. Once he got there, he pretended to fan himself. 

     “Getting a little hot in here, innit boys?” Before either one of them could get a word out he was pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing onto a nearby chair. He chuckled as Alb and Elm went a little slack jawed. 

     Now, Finch was by no means an Adonis, but he took pride in his form. And he damn well knew that his boyfriends loved it. So why not use it to his advantage? 

     Almost on cue, the opening line of “Don’t Stop the Music” (covered by The Treblemakers) came across the speakers. Finch took Elmer’s hands around his waist, placed his own on Albert’s hips, and began to grind to the rhythm. The other two quickly reciprocated, Albert turning to fervently kiss Finch as Elmer mouthed at the back of his neck. Finch grinned ferally into the kiss and kept up his pace against the two boys’ hips, only pausing to get the feel of the next song before resuming pace. They danced through a couple more songs before Finch pulled out of middle. 

     “Let’s move to a bedroom, shall we boys?” The other two simply nodded their heads, following as he dragged them up the stairs to a guest bedroom. He pushed them onto the bed and turned to make sure the door was locked. 

     Crutchie watched the three go, and prayed that they’d make sure to leave his room alone. 

~~~

     Finch woke up the next morning tangled up in boyfriends, a little dehydrated but not hungover. He never got full blown drunk, and he made sure Albert wouldn’t either. Being the caring boyfriend he was, he decided he would get the other two glasses of water before waking them up. He quickly threw on a pair of pants (his or Elmer’s, he couldn’t tell), and left, but not before snapping a quick pic of his two adorable sleeping partners. 

     He made his way back downstairs, yawning and stretching as he went. He carefully stepped around passed out friends, making mental notes of who was likely to have been smashed. He reached the kitchen, and quickly got as many glasses of water as he could manage. He also pulled out the boys supply of regular Tylenol, placing glasses and pills by the boys who would have had a few too many, and was just on his way back for the last two glasses for Albert and Elmer, when Crutchie’s tell-tale three beat footsteps came down the stairs. 

     “Damn Finch,” he whistled, “You three sure had a fun night.” That’s when Finch realized he had forgotten a shirt. He blushed down to his neck as he remembered the scratches and hickies that were probably littering his torso and neck. Crutchie just chuckled and tossed him his abandoned shirt from the night. “Might wanna put that on before the others wake up. I’s going easy on ya, but you better bet they won’t.” 

     “Thanks Crutch,” Finch mumbled out. He pulled the shirt over his head and picked up the glasses from the counter. “I made the rounds, put out the Tylenol and water. Race’ll probably need the good ol’ hangover cure, so will Romeo and Smalls.” 

     “Alrighty, I’ll get to work on that and breakfast, you go get your boys.” Crutchie gave him a sunny smile before turning to the stove. Finch smiled back, and picked his way back to his boyfriends. When he got to the room, he saw Alb and Elmer already up, Elmer wearing a shirt and boxers, Albert wearing only bottoms. Both lit up when he walked in, a welcome sight. He passed them both their waters before crawling back into bed with them. 

     “Mornin’ babes.” 

     “Mornin’ Finch.” 

     “Mornin’ Birdie. Might wanna wear a shirt out next time, hm?” Finch flushed bright red again, while Alb and Elmer giggled fondly. He soon joined them, thanking whoever was out there that he was blessed with the two boys on either side of him.

Notes:

Heya!
I hope y'all liked it! Writing this was kinda difficult at first, but then Dead Girl Walking came on my playlist lol. If you enjoyed it drop a comment and kudos! Didn't like it? Tell me why! My grammar and spelling are atrocious? Let me know (in a kind way)!
Hope y'all are having a great day/night/week!
Sincerely,
~The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)

Chapter 4: Videos (1/2)

Summary:

Finch has something important to tell his boyfriends. But will he be able to say?

Song is "What More Can I Say" from Falsettos because it's sad and gay like me ☺

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

     Finch sat on his bed, legs crossed and guitar in hand. He positioned his mic, took a deep breath, and hit record.

 

~~~

 

     "Hi loves. It's currently December 24th, and it's 9pm Eastern Standard Time. As I'm recording this, you two are each celebrating Christmas Eve with your families. I'm hoping that Queens and Brooklyn are treating you well. From here I'm shooting without a script. I tried a million different ways to say this in normal words, but it never felt right right. It was never us. So where speaking fails, let music be my words.

 

It's been hot
Also very sweet
And I'm not usually indiscreet
But when they sparkle
The earth begins to sway
What more can I say?
How can I express
How confused am I by our happiness?
I can't eat breakfast
I barely tie my shoe
What more can I do?

If I say I love them
You might think my words come cheap
Let's just say, I'm glad they're mine
Awake, asleep

It's been hot
Also, it's been swell
More than not
It's been more than words can tell
I halt, I stammer
I sing a roundelay
What more can I say?

 

 

 

I'll stay calm

Untie my tongue

And try to stay

Both kind and young

I was taught
Never brag or shout
Still it's hot
Just like how you read about
And also caring
And never too uncouth
That's the simple truth
That's the simple truth

Can you tell
I have been revised?
It's so swell
Damn it, even I'm surprised
We laugh, we fumble
We take it day by day
What more can I say?

 

     Being that there is nothing left to ask, Albert Sean DaSilva and Elmer Ash Kasperzak, will you both do me the honour of being my unlawfully wedded husbands?"

 

     Their friends had all been struck silent as the lights rose in Kath and Sarah's living room. Finch had moved from beside his boyfriends to bent on one knee, present twin bands of entwined silver, gold, and tungsten. Each was inlaid with a small black opal, which sparkled as they caught the light.

 

     "Albie, Elm, what do you say?" It seemed as though to air was sucked out of the room. Across the city, New Yorkers counted down.

 

     3...

     2...

     1...

     "Yes," they breathed in unison.

 

     Fireworks burst and New York cheered.

 

     "Happy New Year loves."

 

Notes:

Coming soon: Videos 2 Electric Boogaloo. This time, it's angsty.

Hope y'all are having a great day/night/week!
Sincerely,
~The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)

Chapter 5: Videos (2/2)

Summary:

Hey remember what I said last time? About angst?

W E L L L E T ' S G E T I N T O I T

((Song is Seasons Of Love B from RENT if you didn't know)))

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

     Finch sat on his bed, felling a heavy sort of nostalgia. His guitar, his old camera, his microphone set up and ready. He took a shaky breath and hit record.

 

~~~

 

     "Hi loves. It is currently 8 years to the hour since I was sat on my bed, sweating like a pig and trying to sing you my heart. Those 8 years have been the best of my life, and I wish so much that we could have decades more like them. I wish," the younger, healthy, glowing Finch in the video choked back a sob, "I wish I could have more time. But to you both I swear, God and this damned camera as my witness, I will fight for every last moment I can. I will make each and every second count. And if our time is up tomorrow, or if it's up a year from now, know that you two still made it a life well spent. To both of you, to my last year, and to all of your years to follow, I dedicate this song.

 

     In diapers, report cards
     In spoke wheels, in speeding tickets
     In contracts, dollars
     In funerals, in births

     In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
     How do you figure our last year on earth?

     Figure in love
     Figure in love
     Figure in love
     Measure in love
     Seasons of love
     Seasons of love

 

     Whenever you're watching this, Albie, Elm, know that I loved you both. With every inch of my heart." The video ended on Finch's smiling, tear streaked face. Albert started at the laptop, eyes blank and glimmering with held-back tears. Elmer's face was tucked into Al's chest, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The latter had one arm holding the brunet close to him, the other hand softly carding through Elmer's curls.

 

     The had barely moved since returning home from the funeral. Ties were loosened and jackets abandoned, but neither had made any further effort to rid themselves of their black slacks or stiff white shirts. They just flopped onto the couch and turned on the video. Just to see him as he was before, instead of the cold body in the casket or the weakened and confused man he had become in their last days.

 

     Albert let out a shuddering breath as he finally felt the tears fall. Each soft drop onto Elmer's hair felt like a new blow, a new stab, a harsher twist of the knife into his heart. They made it tangible. They made it real.

 

     Finch was gone.

Notes:

It definitely hurt to write it too.

So I went to see a local production of RENT recently and uh yeah that actually spawned the first one, which was actually originally gonna end up like this. But then I had to make it even worse by having them happy in the first one. Yay!

Hope y'all are having a great day/night/week!
Sincerely,
~The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)

Chapter 6: 0123210

Summary:

This one's pretty damn dark. Please carefully read the latest tags. If you are sensitive to any of the following, please for your own safety do not read. Also, sorry that the characters are so vague, but I also might use this as a spoken word piece should I get the chance.

TW!Major Character Death
TW!Implied/Referenced Suicide
TW!Padded Cells
TW!Asylums
TW!Descriptions of Self Harm

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

0
is truly the loneliest number, for it lived to see as
1
boy sat alone in his room. He hit the walls and threw his dishes, but nothing in the godforsaken padded cell gave way. He remembered, before there was was one there used to be
2
of them, playing and laughing. The first, the redhead, would lift the brunet on his shoulders so that maybe together they could reach the other, the one that made them
3
and whole. When the third was there he filled their world with joy. He would crack jokes and fire his slingshot to knock apple's down for his others. He was there, but then he left and there were only
2
boys left to play and remember and grieve. But soon what had come to take the third came to take the second away with it leaving only
1
boy alone. When he was lucid he would scream and cry out for faces that were no longer there. But on the other days, the Bad Days, he would smile sweetly and ask whoever came by "when will my boys come to visit?" And the latest visitor would smile sadly and say "soon dear". All of this was rehearsed and played to perfection, as they said their goodbyes. But all things sweet too soon turn bitter. The screaming fits of rage soon tore through to the rafters. And the cheery yellow bedspread tangled too easily around the smiling redheaded. For you see, the loneliest number truly is left when all the others have gone. And that number is
0

Notes:

This one was a doozy. My apologies if any of the material was triggering.

US Suicide prevention hotlines
1-800-273-8255 (1-800-273-TALK) - National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-784-2433 (1-800-SUICIDE) - National Hopeline Network
1-866-488-7386 (1-866-4.U.TREVOR aimed at gay and questioning youth)

CAN Sucide prevention hotlines
Text 'Start' to 45645 from 4pm-midnight
Call 1-833-456-4566 Available 24/7/365
KidsHelpPhone Ages 20 Years and Under in Canada 1-800-668-6868

Resource list for global hotlines
https://thelifelinecanada.ca/help/call/

Notes:

Hey there Friends! Drop a comment below if you loved it, hated it, noticed an error, or have some constructive criticism! Leave kudos if you enjoyed this fic, and feel free to leave any prompts you'd like to see for this rarepair below as well.
Lots of love and good wishes!
-The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)

Series this work belongs to: