Davey ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his tired eyes. Finals week was killing him. Literally. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in a week, he wasn't eating properly, and his anxiety was through the roof. He picked up his pencil and shuffled through a few more stacks of papers.

No matter how bad it was, he reminded himself, it was worlds better than freezing to the bone or sweating through his clothes out on the streets day after day selling papers. Sweating was more like it this time of year, since summer was already underway. But soon he'd have his degree; soon he'd be a real accountant and he could support himself. Maybe he'd even be able to move out and get his own apartment. Not that he didn't like living with Crutchie and Jack. They were great roommates, but he knew living by himself would suit him better.

After the strike, he had worked a few more months until his dad was well enough to go back to work. Then he went back to school while Les opted to stay a newsboy, working under the direction of both Race and Spot Conlon (which Davey admitted made him a little uneasy; there were so many bad influences between the two of them). Jack had taken the job writing political cartoons for the paper, and Crutchie was in school now, too, working towards becoming a schoolteacher. The three of them had moved in together using the money they had saved and a small loan from Katherine.

"God dammit!" he heard in the next room, followed by a loud crash.

He tried not to pay any mind. Jack was in one of his moods again, and he didn't want to get involved if he didn't have to.

But the noise persisted. Davey heard a door open and slam into the wall, and a few loud footsteps. Then Jack appeared in the open doorway to Davey's room.

"Goin' out, Dave," Jack said gruffly.

Davey peered over his shoulder at Jack. He looked more sad than angry, a little confused, too.

"Alright," Davey said calmly. "Where you going to?"

"A walk, Dave, a walk," Jack stammered. "I…I just need me some fresh air is all."

"In New York?" Davey said with a little chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood, but Jack just smirked and shook his head.

"See ya, Dave," Jack said, and turned on his heel to stomp down the hall and out the front door, slamming the front door hard behind him.

Davey went back to studying, cracking a book open and reading a passage on – what was he reading about again? Oh yeah, photosynthesis. He didn't know what the hell he needed to know that for to be an accountant. The biology of a plant had very little to do with people's finances.

"Hey, Davey?" he heard Crutchie call down the hall.

"Yeah, Crutch?"

"Where'd Jack go?"

"I dunno."

"What'd he say to you?"

"He's going for a walk. Needed some fresh air."

The short blonde boy appeared in the doorway wearing his pajamas; he looked confused. "Fresh air in New York?" he asked.

"That's what I said," Davey laughed.

"He seemed upset," Crutchie said. "I hope he don't do anything too terribly stupid."

"He's a grown man, Crutch, he'll be fine," Davey said.

"You're probably right," Crutchie sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at Davey's book. "Whatcha readin' 'bout?"

"Biology," Davey told him. "Plant photosynthesis."

"Plants do pictures?" Crutchie cocked his head to the side and raised one eyebrow, looking at Davey as though he'd told him there'd be flying goats at the synagogue next week.

"No," Davey laughed. "It's got nothing to do with pictures. Has to do with light and plants making food for themselves."

"Okay then," Crutchie laughed, still not fully understanding. "You gotta know that to do math?"

"My sentiments exactly," Davey said.

"It's getting pretty late. You going to bed anytime soon? And don't say, 'Ah, Crutch, don'tcha see, I'm in bed!' 'Cause this ain't what I mean."

Davey shook his head and moved a few more papers around, and then he underlined something in the book and wrote a few words down in his notebook.

"Well," he said. "Maybe soon, Crutch, I dunno."

Crutchie nodded and carefully stood, tucking his crutch back under his arm. "Well it's late, like I says. So I'm going on to bed."

"Goodnight," Davey said, smiling politely. "I'll be making breakfast in the morning, so you don't have to."

"Thanks. Can't wait," he yawned. "Okay, night, Davey."

And with that, Crutchie left, shuffling out the door and across the hall to his own room. Davey went back to reading, almost ready to give up for the night. Or at least take a break. He needed a break.

Just as he was closing his book and gathering up all his pens and pencils and papers, there came a light rapping on his window. He got up and dropped his things onto the chair in the corner on his way over to the window.

"Les Jacobs, if that is you on my fire escape at one in the morning –"

Opening the curtain, he saw that it was not his younger brother, but another bright smiling face.

"Katherine? What're you doing here?"

"Open the window!" she said, pointing as if he didn't know how a window worked.

He scoffed lightly, amused, and did as she asked. She handed him a brown paper bag before hiking her skirt up and stepping over the windowsill into his room.

"What're you doing here?" he asked again.

"Brought you something to eat since I knew you were awake," she said.

He opened the bag and looked inside. He couldn't see what it was through the white paper wrapping, but it smelled strongly of salmon and cream cheese. Closing the bag, he looked at her gratefully.

"Thanks," he said. "You wanna sit? I can move some of that stuff out of the chair if you –"

She sat on the bed instead and she smiled up at him.

"Okay then," he said, and sat beside her.

Inside the bag, he found a bagel with lox from Jacobi's Deli. That's what he always got when he went there because it reminded him of some of the things his mom made at home. He thanked her again as he started eating.

"It's no problem really," she said. "So you thought I was going to be Les at first. Does he usually come by this late?"

"No, but he always uses the fire escape instead of the front door," Davey told her. "And I know Ma wouldn't like that, so I try to discourage it but he never listens."

"Ah," she nodded.

"Hey, why didn't you use the front door?"

She looked at the window thoughtfully. "Well," she started. "I didn't want to see Jack."

"Why's that?"

She didn't answer.

"Jack left anyway," he shrugged, more preoccupied with his sandwich than the affairs of his roommate and Miss Katherine Pulitzer.

"Did he?"

Davey nodded.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Fresh air," Davey told her, his mouth full.

"In New York?" she asked, bewildered.

"Exactly!"

They heard Crutchie get up across the hall and close his door loudly.

"Oops," Davey said quietly. "Guess we're too loud for him."

"We can just close this then," she said, and she got up to close the door to Davey's bedroom.

She sat down beside him, a little closer this time, as he was wadding up the white paper his sandwich had been in. He shoved it in the brown bag, wadded that up, too, and tossed it into the rubbish bin across the room.

"Good job," she said.

"Thanks," he said with a little laugh. "When you're too lazy to get up, your aim gets better, I guess."

He took a sip of water from the glass beside his bed and studied her for a moment in silence, wondering why she was there.

"So Jack isn't here?" she asked for confirmation.

"He left just a little while before you got here," Davey told her.

"Good," she said.

With little hesitation, she kissed him, and for just a moment, he kissed her back. He touched her face and sighed contentedly, then he realized what was happening and he pulled away.

"What the hell?" He looked at her, shocked.

"Sorry," she said. "Was that the wrong thing to do?"

"Probably!" he said in a loud whisper.

"I'll be going then," she said. "I'm sorry." She started to get up and leave. "Good luck on your exams. I'll see you tomorrow. Let's just forget this happened."

He could see just how flustered she was.

"No, you don't have to go," he said.

"What?"

"You can stay," he said. "I'm not mad."

She sat back down slowly, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure," he nodded.

Slowly, cautiously, he leaned in and kissed her again. She was lovely, he thought, and it felt really nice to kiss her. Maybe it was just how tired he was that made him think this was okay, or maybe he knew it was completely wrong. A voice in the back of his mind kept telling him to stop, that this was Jack's girl and that he shouldn't even be thinking of kissing her. But she had kissed him first, he argued with himself, and logically, that stood.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer as they kissed. His hands lay lightly on her waist for several minutes, content just to kiss her and not engage in anything further.

That is, until she started fumbling with the buttons on the front of his shirt.

"Wait," he said, breaking the kiss.

"I'm sorry, I –"

She started to move away again, but he quickly kissed her again on an impulse, and she melted into him once more. She tugged his suspenders down and untucked his shirt to finish unbuttoning it, and then she slid it down his arms and off his body. It fell behind him onto the bed in a heap. He had very little experience in undressing girls, but he managed to get her skirt unfastened and off rather quickly; her shirtwaist gave him a little more trouble, but he managed to get it off, too, without her help. Her corset, however, was completely foreign to him. One of the girls he had been with before left hers on; the other took it off herself. This experience was different since they were undressing each other and not themselves like he was used to, but he didn't want to stop to ask her how to get it off of her, so he tried to get it without help by tugging at the strings in the back.

"Hey," she laughed, pulling away. "Okay, I'm guessing you don't actually know how that works because you're actually making it tighter."

"Not really," he said, blushing.

"I got it," she said, reaching behind herself and tugging at a different part of the strings until she had it loose enough to yank over her head, leaving her in only her chemise, drawers, and stockings.

He couldn't stop staring at her until she kissed him again and unfastened his trousers, then pulled them down. Carefully, he kicked them off and pulled his legs up into the bed. She climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and grinded hers against them. He groaned quietly, enjoying the sensation. One of his hands slipped under her chemise to touch her breasts. She leaned back and pulled the chemise off over her head so he could see her.

"God," he sighed. "You're beautiful."

"Shh," she giggled and kissed him again before yanking his undershirt off.

He quickly rolled them over so he was on top and then he sat up to look down at her and roll her stockings down her legs, his hands brushing her skin occasionally. Once they were off, she pulled him back down on top of her roughly and impatiently and kissed him. Even though he was on top, it was obvious that she was very much the one in charge. He was following her cues for the most part.

"Hey, how easy is it to hear something like this from where Crutchie is?" she asked, concerned. "He won't be able to hear us, will he?"

"He's a sound sleeper," Davey said, though he had no idea if this was actually true.

"Okay good," she smiled as she wiggled out of her drawers and kicked them onto the floor.

She took his hand and put it between her legs, moaning at the initial touch. He could feel that she was very wet and very warm. He kissed her neck and slid a finger into her.

"Oh," she sighed and rocked her hips against his hand.

She reached into his underpants and took him in her hand, and he gasped. For a second, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his thoughts clear enough to keep touching her while she touched him. He didn't have to worry for much longer because the next thing he knew, she was tugging his underpants down.

"Okay, I want this now," she told him. "Please," she added. "If that's alright with you. If that's what you want, too."

He smiled and pecked her lips. "Yes."

She helped him guide himself into her and he heard her muffle what sounded like a sob once he was all the way in. Concerned, he looked at her face, but didn't see any sign of pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mhm," she said, nodding.

She buried her face in his neck, wrapped her arms around him, and slowly started to move her hips. Getting the message, he followed her lead, taking on her tempo. It felt really good to be with her that way, to make love to her. She must have liked it too because she was breathing hard and she kept moaning softly or whimpering under her breath. He picked up the pace slightly once he thought it was okay, and she dug her nails into his back.

"Oh," she moaned. "God…"

She kissed his neck and moved her hips against his, quicker and quicker until she cried out and bit his shoulder. He felt her relax as her walls contracted around him and she fought to catch her breath. A few more soft moans fell from her lips and her head fell back onto the pillow. He pulled out and with a soft grunt finished on the sheet beneath them.

Carefully, he rolled off of her and lay down beside her, suddenly very aware of what had happened as she got out of bed and pulled her chemise and drawers back on. He watched as she dressed, feeling the guilt of what he'd done flood his consciousness.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be," she said.

"I mean," he said tentatively. "It was good. I had a good time, but…"

"But what?" she asked, eyes wide and face worried.

"But I don't think we should do it again," he said. "This is the last time."

She nodded. "I know. This is the first and last time. I promise."

"Okay." He stepped back into his underpants and grabbed his robe from the back of the door to slip on. "Good."

"Thank you," she said, and kissed him on the cheek before going out again the way she'd come in.