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Jack knew he was taking it too far, but it’s hard to stop himself when it’s the Delancey’s. Something about their faces and their personality, and the way they dress, and the people they associate with, and how easy it is to get under their skin. It’s a satisfaction he can’t resist—a comment about their looks here, a slight on their being disappointments there, and suddenly fists were involved.
It was like a blur, really. How was Jack supposed to know they’d get violent? No matter what Davey tells anyone, he’s innocent in the entirety—and, also, Davey should definitely be on his side because otherwise it's just… Oscar and Morris Delancey. And Jack Kelly has had his lips on Davey’s lips; it’s the law of the land to take Jack’s side.
Sure, he may or may not recall Davey pulling at his arm, trying to de-escalate. He may or may not remember being the instigator in it all, but that’s all under the right circumstances, of course.
Jack Kelly is completely and utterly innocent.
It’s why he’s running—because he’s innocent. The proof is in the pudding, or whatever the saying is. Besides, Davey’s running, too.
The chase is intense, skidding around corners and nearly running directly into people, or Jack almost does. Davey crashes straight into a man in a finely tailored suit, bouncing off of him and hitting the ground. Jack grabs his bicep in a tight grip and carries him up, and they run. Around another corner, Davey nearly slides into the road before Jack simply grabs his wrist and hauls ass.
Then Jack spots the gold, a horse tied to the front gate of a shop and left unattended. He smiles like a kid on Christmas, speeding up and dragging Davey with him.
“Jack?” Davey asks as they slow down in front of the horse. Jack is already working on the knot. “Jack, stop it! What are you doing?”
“Making a getaway!” Jack laughs, nearly shaking with excitement as he gets the horse free. He pulls himself up onto the horse’s back, looking down at Davey now. He looks terrified, but then he looks back and sees the Delancey’s gaining on them quickly. Jack holds his hand out, and asks, “Do you trust me?”
Davey looks at Jack, then his hand, back at the Delancey’s, and takes it. Jack grins, pulling Davey up. Davey only gets a second to get settled, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist, before they rocket forward. Davey yelps, his arms squeezing Jack almost painfully. He buries his face in Jack's shoulder, and Jack can only hope his face isn’t red.
He only faintly hears people yelling over the wind in his ears. His heart is racing, and it feels just like Santa Fe.
Jack steers the horse into the road, and they leave the Delancey brothers and the chaos behind. He can feel Davey’s breath, panicked and heavy, against his throat. Davey’s entire body trembles against Jack’s back. Jack licks his lips, hands tightening on the reins as he urges the horse faster. “Davey!” Jack shouts over the wind. “Look, it’s okay!” He shifts to dislodge Davey’s face from his neck.
Davey finally looks up, tightening his grip around Jack. His breath catches, wide eyes watching everyone and everything pass. Then he hides his face as he yells, “We’re going to get arrested, Jack!”
“We’ll be fine! They’ll never catch us!” he says, laughing. The wind whips in his face, and with Davey at his back, on horseback, Jack feels like he could do anything.
New York passes in a blur, brick buildings hugging each other becoming dust behind them. The sun shines down on them, the end of May approaching quickly with summer’s warmth, and the tunnel of air around them becomes a balm on Jack’s skin.
After a mile, they have to ditch the horse, lest they want to be tracked so easily. Jack slides off the horse first, and then helps Davey down, shaky as he is. They jump a cart filled with hay, leaving the horse with it, and get lost in the labyrinthian New York alleyways.
They’re both out of breath when they finally stop, hands on their knees, and bent over as they wheeze.
After an extended silence, Jack laughs, exhilarated, as the adrenaline dies down. Davey shoves Jack’s shoulder and hisses, “What is wrong with you?”
“What?” Jack says, hands held up in surrender. “I didn’t do anything, they’s crazy! They’s—They’s the Delancey’s!”
“Don’t play dumb. You provoked them on purpose,” Davey says, poking his finger into Jack’s chest rather harshly for emphasis. He takes a final deep breath, leaning against the brick wall behind him. “I cannot believe you called him a coal-brained bastard. I can’t believe you stole a horse !”
Jack smirks, still amused by himself. He can see why Mr. Proper Davey would be scandalized. “Got us out, didn’t I?” Jack shrugs.
“You also got us into it,” Davey grumbles. “We could get arrested.”
“Hey, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Jack says, waving his hand around dismissively.
“That’s—” Davey pauses, biting his lip to hold back his smile. Jack’s good at loosening his buttons like that, a skill he prides himself on. “That’s not how you use that.”
“Well duh. I’m not a horse.”
“No—” Davey laughs, chin dropping to his chest to hide his smile.
“I make a great gift, though,” Jack continues, tilting his head this way and that as if actually debating it. With Davey, he usually is.
“Stop. You’re an embarrassment to the English language.”
Jack closes the distance between them, leaning against the wall beside Davey and tilting his head allusively. “That what ya tell ya school buddies?”
Davey’s smile falls slightly, turning to Jack. He’s shaking his head as he says, “No. No, of course not.”
“What do ya say about me?”
“Nothing. I don’t talk about you,” he says, like it’s obvious, shrugging his shoulders. He reaches out to adjust Jack’s bandana around his neck, an absent gesture he does more as he gets bolder in Jack’s presence. It makes Jack’s heart flutter.
Jack’s hand flies to his chest, slapping it with an audible thump. Davey’s eyes widen in alarm as Jack falls into the wall with a groan. “That hurts, Davey,” he says, though "hurts” sounds more like “ hoits ”, which he notices now because Davey likes to correct him. He thinks it’s funny or something. “Ya really are embarrassed o’ me.”
Davey’s brows furrow. “No, no, no, that’s not it at all,” he says quickly. “I just don’t like talking about you with them. They’re… supercilious, and you’re special.” He holds Jack’s face in his hands gently, like a lover.
Jack knows the word supercilious because Davey’s used it before. “Real uppity, huh?”
“Yeah,” Davey nods. “They don’t deserve you.”
Jack smirks, nuzzling his cheek into Davey’s hand. “Didn’t know you’s was possessive like that. I’m into it.”
“Shut up. That’s not what that is.” Davey drops his hands, slapping Jack's chest lightly. “I don’t like them. Why would I tell them about you? It’s not worth the conversation—or the headache.”
“And I am?”
“Who said that?” Davey teases.
Jack glares at Davey, though he can’t truly be mad at him. He could never be mad at Davey. “You’s loony. I’m great at conversation.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!” Jack boasts. He takes a half step closer, bringing their faces only a few inches apart. “I’m great at… other things, as well. Ya know?”
“Oh yeah, Cowboy? Like what?” Davey teases, voice low. Jack feels his face flush at the nickname, and even though it’s nothing special, he likes it when Davey says it. Davey makes everything sound special and smart.
“Well…” Jack raises a brow, his shoulders coming up in a teasing manner. “I’m better at physical demonstrations.”
Davey waves his hand as if to say, go on , as he looks at Jack through his lashes, coy. It makes something flutter in his gut at the familiar sight. Jack bites his lip, unable to help the smile. He leans his forehead against Davey’s, simply feeling the other boy as real and Jack’s . It’s a miracle in itself, and some days, Jack pinches himself just to double, triple check.
“Jack?” Davey asks, still looking up at him, his hat pushed up and messing up his hair where their foreheads connect, but he doesn’t seem to care about that right now.
“I’m gonna kiss ya now,” Jack breathes, more air than words.
“Is that a warning?”
“Yeah,” then Jack kisses Davey. Their noses flatten against each other before they tilt their heads to accommodate each other. Their teeth click together, desperate and heated and uncaring of anything but each other. New York fades around them until it no longer exists. It’s just Jack and Davey, and it feels like nothing could separate them. They’re inevitable.
Davey’s hands trail up Jack’s neck and curl into his hair, tugging lightly. Jack groans, one hand resting on Davey’s hip and the other on Davey’s neck, where he can feel his heartbeat. It’s a comfort as much as it is a turn on, feeling Davey’s heart beat so out of rhythm because of Jack . No one else makes Davey’s breath stutter and catch in his chest, or his heart beat like this, or his face flush. No one gets to touch Davey like this except for Jack in the reprieve of shadows.
Davey lets one hand trail down the back of Jack’s head and neck, until he finds the cowboy hat that rests on his back, held up by the string. He uses it to cover their faces from the direction where the alley turns.
“Yee haw,” Jack says, and Davey scoffs.
“You’re such a dork,” he says fondly.
Jack laughs, diving back into Davey’s mouth, this time forcing his lips apart and stealing his breath. He gets lost in Davey, in the skin under his shirt, hiked up by Jack’s curious hands, in the feeling of Davey’s hands pulling his shoulders in so they’re as close as possible, in the way Davey’s eyes flutter every time they pull away for a moment of breath. His blue eyes look at Jack like he knows what love is intimately, profoundly, intrinsically. Maybe Davey knows love, or he is love, and Jack is offered a hand to be along for the ride.
Slowly, almost like he regrets it, Davey drops the hat and pushes Jack away with hands on his chest. Jack reluctantly backs off after one last kiss. “We should—” Davey starts breathlessly, sucking in air. His eyes flick back and forth between Jacks. “We should really get back to work, Jackie.”
“Just a few more minutes?” Jack asks, widening his eyes a little like he used to when he was little.
Davey bites his lip, smiling through it as he shakes his head. “No,” he says, pushing himself off the brick wall.
“Later?” Jack asks hopefully.
“Maybe,” Davey says. Before Jack can get too excited, he quickly interrupts, “ Not at the lodging house.”
“The roof?” When Davey makes a face, Jack knows that’s a no as well. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jack leads them out of the alley, watching the streets for anyone waiting for them to pop out and ambush them. When everyone ignores the boys like they normally would, Jack feels his shoulders drop. Sneaking off never fails to give him a thrill, especially after the fancy getaway this time around. Definitely an experience he’d repeat, though he can’t confidently say Davey would do the same.
Jack stretches his arms above his head, letting out a dramatic groan. “Ugh, back to work then.”
Davey nods, looking at passersby anxiously. He sticks close to Jack, as if he’s never broken the law before—which Jack knows he has.
Jack nudges Davey, and says, “Relax. You look like you’s done something.” Davey glares at him and Jack shrugs.
They make their way back to the distribution center and sell for the next few hours. The sun passes over the sky and people return home from work, quickly selling out their papes. It’s one of the better days, with no rain and clear skies, that allows them to go straight to the lodging house instead of selling back whatever remains to Weasel. Jack is still giddy when they get back, and although Davey ends up having to take Les back home early, he still gets a discreet kiss goodbye and a promise to see each other tomorrow afternoon.
He goes to bed with a smile on his face, an excitement for work he never felt before Davey. He shines incandescently in Jack’s mind, pushing away any previous worries he might’ve had. It’s good; he feels good. Davey’s good for him.
At least, Crutchie thinks so.