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The Lodging House is always full of warmth and noise, and laughter after a long day's work. There’s money in their pockets—even if it’s minimal—food in their bellies, and everyone’s scattered in groups as the moon rises. Oil lamps fight to light up the room, flickering enough to make shadows stir, and illuminating the smiles on everyone's faces.
David sits on the top bunk of Jack’s bed, if what he’s been told is correct. His legs hang over the edge, swinging gently like branches in the wind. He has neatly folded his plaid shirt beside him, leaving him in just his undershirt like the other boys, his suspenders straps hanging loosely off his hips. The stove is on the fight off the oncoming winter, and there are too many newsies in the room for sweat not to prick at the back of his neck. It’s better than the harsh cold, though. To keep all of his layers would be a near-impossible task.
Les sits on the ground beneath him with a few of the other littles, playing with spinning tops. They have little wood chips in piles in front of each of them, and David should probably be concerned that his little brother is technically gambling, but he doesn’t have the heart to spoil the fun while everyone is in such good spirits. For now, he’ll be grateful it’s not real money. Later, he’ll be having a talk with Race about setting a good example and one with Les about the risks of gambling. If it ever got back to his parents, he’d never hear the end of it.
Now that David is actually watching, though, he doesn’t think they’re even gambling correctly. They’re just copying what they think the older boys are doing—throwing their chips around and yelling at each other.
Speaking of, on the other side of the room, the yelling erupts into roars, stealing everyone’s attention. Race jumps up from his seat with a triumphant cackle, doing a little dance in celebration. It reminds David of the jigs the boys will do together, but this time, he’s doing it solo while everyone groans, throwing their chips at him.
“You’se a lousy cheater!” Someone yells, and Race gives the group an obscene gesture before taking a swig of his drink, stolen from Mr. Kloppman’s back room, that he’s most certainly aware the kids get into every once in a while.
“Sit down, you bum,” Jack says, pulling on the back of Race’s shirt so he stumbles back into his seat with a choked sound. He pushes against Jack’s chest, which quickly devolves into roughhousing, as it usually does. The other guys cheer, egging Race and Jack on as they tumble out of their chairs, the game forgotten. David would be worried if they weren’t both smiling.
David slides off the bunk, careful to avoid the kids, though they don’t pay him any mind as they watch the older boys. He comes up behind the rowdy group, placing his hand on Much’s shoulder, watching. Mush looks up at David with a toothy smile. “Hey, Davey,” he says. A few other boys glance over at the greeting, repeating it and some reaching over to pat him on the arm, shoulder, back—wherever closest.
Apparently, that catches Jack’s attention, who’s pinned under Race and clearly losing. “Davey,” he shouts, voice cracking. “Davey, help!” He flails a bit pathetically, hitting Race in the face. It’s so fake, David almost feels bad.
Everyone groans in unison, throwing their hands up. “Oh yeah, call yer fella for a rescue!” Race snaps, using the heel of his palm to push Jack's head to the side.
David smiles indulgently, though he smacks the closest person heckling upside the head. He pushes his way to Jack, made easier when Mush moves over to make a path for him to squeeze through. “Okay, okay!” David says over the noise. He pats Race on the shoulder before pulling him off Jack. “You win, Race, now get up.”
“Aye, you can’t always come to the rescue, Mouth. He’ll lose his edge!” They all laugh, and Race spreads his arms, grinning like he’s on a stage.
“Put a cork in it, will ya?” Jack grumbles, waving the laughter away like annoying flies. He accepts David’s hand, standing up with a hop. He bends down to pick up his cowboy hat, which had fallen off in the scuffle. He grins at David, wiping off dust from the felt. Jack pauses, contemplating something as he stares at David for a moment. Then, he smirks and places the hat on David’s head.
David freezes, shoulders raising slightly, processing. He didn’t know what he was expecting when Jack reached out with his hat, but it certainly wasn't that. With the way the others whistle and crow boisterously, it feels a little more intimate than it should. His face flushed, flustered, and embarrassed for reasons he can’t even name. It’s instinctual.
“Shaddup!” Jack shouts, waving his hand at them dismissively, though he looks pleased with himself. He looks at David then, his eyes motioning towards the fire escape; an invitation, a plea for privacy.
It would be nothing new to David, who’s so used to finding himself in empty alleyways with Jack, pushed up against dark walls and corners so no one can encroach on their intimate moments. It’s as exhilarating as it is daunting to have Jack’s lips against his while knowing if anyone were to find them, they’d be ruined.
The window is closed with a towel rolled up and stuffed at the bottom to keep at least one draft from making the boys freeze. David would probably get a splinter just from touching the wood; it's so old and ruined, probably from years of newsies coming in and out of it with less grace than a cat in water. He’s seen enough of them falling through to know what it looks like.
Despite it, David follows Jack outside, shutting the window behind them. It immediately silences the noise from inside, cutting them off from what feels like the entire world when the rest of New York is asleep. At least, it is on this side of the city, aside from the occasional drunk stumbling along the brick road.
There’s a slight chill; as October transitions into November, they’re expecting their first snowfall and can feel it as well as they can see it. The sun is out less, clouds creating a layer of gray overhead in New York. The grass has wilted into an ugly straw color, covering the parks in the most unappealing view, not that the kids care.
David shivers, wrapping his hands around himself once he settles down. His feet dangled over the fire escape's edge, Jack matching his position beside him, holding the bars like a prison as he looked up at the moon. David leans his temple against the metal rung, watching Jack.
“Ya know, I never liked folks with a starin’ problem,” Jack says suddenly, a slow smile creeping on his face.
“Oh, you think I have a staring problem?” David taunts, helpless to the smile that stretches his lips. He can never help it with Jack these days.
“I think you’re starin’.” Jack turns to David. His temple rests against the rung like David, his hands sliding down the metal to rest on his legs.
“What’s the difference?”
“Hmm,” Jack hums, looking up like he’s actually thinking about it. “I like when you stare, Davey.”
“Well… I guess it’s not a problem then.” David’s fingers inch toward Jack until they intertwine with Jack’s fingers. Their hands rest between them on the fire escape. It’s too high up for anyone to notice them and too dark for anyone to see their hands if they do.
They’re free up where the birds fly.
“Come here, Davey,” Jack says with a smirk. His hand finds David’s hip and pulls him forward. He untangles his legs from the bars and turns to straddle Jack's lap.
“What do you want, Cowboy?” David asks, fingers gently playing with the small hairs on the back of Jack’s neck.
Jack looks pointedly at the hat sitting atop David’s head. “I think you got something o’ mine.”
David looks to the side, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack asks. He tips the hat so it covers David’s eyes. David scoffs, pushing it back up with an exaggerated glare. “Neva seen you wear this before.”
“It was a gift,” he says, his smile almost coy. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah.” Jack shrugs, feigning disinterest. “I guess it looks good on you.”
“You guess? ” David repeats, incredulous. His hands fall to hold Jack’s shoulders as he leans away from him. “That’s funny. The others seemed to like it.”
Jack splutters, jaw dropping with a laugh. “They don’t like the hat. They like what it means.”
David raises an eyebrow, dropping his chin slightly. “And what does it mean?”
“Come on, ain’t you the smart one?” Jack asks, kissing David’s nose. David scrunches his nose in response. “Eva’ heard of the sayin’ ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’?”
David’s eyes narrow in thought for a moment before they widen, a surprised laugh bursting from him. “Jack!” he says, tugging at Jack’s ear in reprimand. “I didn’t save any horses.”
“Well, ya saved me,” Jack says smugly.
“Then who’s the cowboy?”
Jack pauses, mouth opening and closing. “Uh… Also me.” David raises his eyebrows again, disbelieving. “Look! It don’t matter. If you wear a cowboy’s hat, it means you gotta… ya know.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
David smacks his hand over Jack's mouth, huffing. “Shut up, you scoundrel.” He places the hat back on Jack’s head, adjusting the string so it sits comfortably under his chin. “There. You can have your hat back.”
“Should I be offended?”
“We’re on a fire escape, Jack. Don’t take it personally.” David says, deadpan. He cups Jack's face with his hands. “Besides, I wouldn’t let anyone have sex with me on a fire escape.”
“Davey!” Jack says, smiling as he laughs. “So vulgar! Who taught ya that language?”
David kisses his teeth, unimpressed. Jack leans up to kiss David. His lips are soft, as is expected of nice David Jacobs, compared to Jack’s chapped ones. It’s gentle and everything Jack loves about David.
“Are ya staying the night?” Jack mumbles against David’s lips.
David sighs, pulling away. He looks up at the moon, nearly at its peak in the sky. “No, I should be getting Les home.”
“I could walk you. Make sure no other scoundrels try to mess with ya.”
David's smile is fond, tilting his head to the side. “Thanks, but I think we’ll be okay.”
David twisted to slide from Jack’s lap and stood up. He put out his hand for Jack to take and helped him stand. They stared at each other for a long moment before Jack kissed David again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jack asks, hopeful and beseeching with his big brown eyes.
“Of course,” David says. He pats Jack on the chest before heading back inside through the window.
The boys have settled down some since Jack and David went outside, and the littles have made their way over to the main group. Most of them are sprawled on others, fast asleep, Les being one of them. David shakes him awake and says, “Les, it’s time to go.”
Les grumbles, swatting at David clumsily. David doesn’t wait for him to wake up, choosing to instead lift him and put Les on his feet. He stumbles a little, complaining the entire time, but he stays upright, which is enough for David.
Jack ruffles Les’s hair, leaning down to say his quiet goodbye. “Come with us?” Les asks, eyes wide and as pathetic as he can make them look.
Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. You see these idiots I gotta keep in line?” he says, pointing his thumb behind him. There are a couple of loud ‘Hey!’s in response, but Jack ignores them. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Les pouts, but surprisingly doesn’t argue further.
Jack straightens up and looks at David. He smiles and says, “Night, Davey.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”