Work Text:
Jack was busy counting his earnings from the day when he heard a knock on the door of his bedroom. He opened it, delighted to see you standing on the other side.
”Hey!” he greeted you with a big smile.
“I need your help with something,” you said, less enthusiastically.
Jack stepped aside, inviting you into the room. “Sure. What’s up?”
“It’s a little embarrassing,” you told him, keeping your voice low as you closed the door behind yourself for more privacy from the other newsies.
“Okay, what’s goin’ on?” He studied you curiously.
You sighed, stalling to avoid saying your answer out loud. “I just went to the bathroom, but I… I couldn’t go.”
“Number one or number two?” Jack asked casually.
Your face reddened. “Number two,” you said, staring down at your shoes.
“Hmm,” Jack hummed, thinking. “Does your belly hurt?”
“Yes,” you whined. “I don't know what to do.”
“Well, it might just need a little time is all,” he proposed, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“But I really feel like I gotta go and it won’t come out,” you explained. “It's like it's too big or something. I'm kind of scared.”
“Awh, sweetheart,” Jack sympathized, hating to see you so upset. “Come here.”
He pulled you into a comforting hug, then guided you to take a seat on his bed.
“I know just what you need. Wait there,” he said before exiting the bedroom.
Soon, he returned with a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. You watched in confusion as he poured some of it into a table spoon.
“A few spoonfuls of this oughtta get things movin’,” he assured you, bringing the utensil to your lips.
Trusting him, you opened your mouth and swallowed the liquid, shuddering as the greasy substance made its way down your throat.
Jack giggled at your reaction. “It don’t taste good, I know. Think you can do one more?”
You nodded. The spoon was refilled and the process repeated.
“There ya go. Give it about an hour and that’ll do the trick,” he told you.
Jack tried his best to make you comfortable while you waited for the remedy to work. The two of you snuggled closely together on his bed. He placed his hand on your tummy and lightly massaged it in an attempt to soothe your pain. The warmth of his touch felt nice and was helping to ease your anxiety as well. You had almost drifted to sleep when his voice caught your attention again.
“Whoa, I can feel it.”
“Feel what?” you asked, confused.
“Your poop! I can feel it in your belly. It feels huge!”
With a gasp, you pulled away from him and shielded your abdomen, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Ey, don’t be embarrassed!” Jack said. “C’mere, I wanna help you get it out.”
Both stunned and charmed by the sincerity in his voice, you felt yourself melt back into his embrace.
The massage continued. Jack’s fingers pushed gently against the distended part of your colon, trying to help move things along. After a while, the pain in your stomach switched from a dull ache to sharp cramps. Your body tensed. Jack asked if you felt like trying to go again. As much as you wanted to stay in his arms forever, you were also desperate to feel better. You told him yes and he carefully helped you up off of the bed.
You hesitated when you reached the bedroom door. “I’m nervous,” you admitted. “It’s gunna hurt.”
Sadly, Jack knew that you were probably right based on the size of what he’d felt in your belly. He kissed the top of your head and wished you luck, reminding you that he’d be right down the hall if you needed anything.
A long while later, you emerged from the bathroom feeling both relieved and exhausted. The remedy had worked, so you didn’t need help with that problem anymore. But after all the pain and struggling you’d just gone through on the toilet, you could certainly use some comfort. So, you made your way back to Jack’s room.
“Hey, how’d it go? Did you poop?”
You nodded.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned by your glum appearance.
You told him that, even with the help of the olive oil, it was really painful and stubborn, sparing him the graphic details about just how big it was and how much effort it took you to push it out. Though you were hoping to feel good as new after finally passing it, you confided that you just felt sore and tired instead.
“Awh, poor thing,” he cooed, wrapping you in a hug. “Is there somethin’ I can do to make ya feel better?”
“This,” you answered, snuggling deeper into his chest.
Before you knew it, you were sound asleep under the covers, still held tightly in Jack’s arms, which was just what you needed.