A/N: Ok, so basically, I'm in the middle of A Box of Chocolates, which is an obvious het fic, and my Jack muse starts complaining. Because, you all know me, I can't do anything without slash in it, but ABoC is supposed to remain het, so my brain came up with this. So here you all go.
Reviews=life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. So will you stop making me say it already???
The Power of Observation
Jack had never been an observant person, but with David, there was just so much to notice.
Jack often caught himself staring in David's direction, studying him; simply watching. Today was no different, yet this time, Jack couldn't help but ask the question: why? What was it about David that made him simply so fascinating to look at?
It was then Jack started thinking, settling himself down on the dusty ground after buying his usual one hundred papers, and staring blankly at the one in front of him; vaguely pretending to scan the black and white for interesting stories.
Maybe it was his hair. The unruly mass of dark curls sitting on top of David's head occasionally rearranging themselves with a firm shake, David most likely disagreeing with something Jack himself had said, and always being infuriatingly right. How they fell into his eyes when David looked away out of embarrassment, his face turning the light shade of crimson Jack knew so well.
As Jack began to think further, now staring at his hands, the discarded paper back on the pile, perhaps it was his eyes. The beautiful shade of blue that somehow found its way past Jack's carefully constructed façade, forcing him, Jack Kelly, to tell the truth, in fear that David might hate him again. The way they looked at Jack and made his breath catch in his throat and quickly turn away, a failed attempt to hide his own blush creeping up the back of his neck. How they stared at him, full of bright innocence, completely unaware of how they made Jack feel.
And sometimes, only if Jack managed to dig up the courage that always seemed to disappear, the unexplained emotions he saw flitting through them.
Now, Jack was sure of a few things. One, he would never make much of a poet, and two; there were so many things about David that he couldn't help but notice.
That little crease that always appeared between David's eyebrows when he thought too hard about something.
The way his hands never seemed to stop moving when he spoke to Jack.
His strong jaw line, his chin, his mouth—
That was it.
At that moment, Jack knew what he loved the most about David. His mouth.
The way the skillful lips formed the words that could set Jack's heart racing, or just as easily rip his insides to shreds.
A small smile crept onto his face as he thought of how much better those full lips would look pressed up against his own.
Finally, Jack was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar stare that made his face heat up and his neck prickle, and turned to find David quickly drop his head, shove his hands in his pockets and bite his lower lip.
It seemed as if Jack wasn't the only observant one.