Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the Newsies characters *sigh* If I did Javid would have happened in the movie :D
David's POV:
I hate my roommate. We're nearly through our first semester of college and he's still acting like a total asshole. I thought it might just be a defense mechanism because he didn't like getting close to people, but I'm starting to think he's just a jerk. A really attractive jerk, but that doesn't make any difference!
"Mornin' Davey," Jack greeted, coming out of his room and into our tiny kitchen.
I fought the urge to stare at his ass and instead opted for a snide remark.
"It's 2:00 in the afternoon. That's not morning." Good, good, that was very convincing.
"Good afternoon then. Jeez."
"Late night?" I asked, already knowing the answer. He stumbled in around 3:00 this morning.
"Yeah, go in at like…you know, I don't actually know what time it was."
"3:00 dumbass."
"Well that's rude."
"Oh sure, but coming in at a ridiculous hour and making as much noise as humanly possible on the way to your room isn't rude?"
"You got a problem with me?" he asked as he finished the last bite of his cereal.
I sighed, shaking my head and staring back down at my book. As much I loved English, all this reading was really getting on my nerves. Nathanial Hawthorn just keeps rambling and don't even get me started on Thoreau.
"I'm gonna go out for a while, see what the guys are up to."
"Fascinating."
"You don't think much of me do ya Dave?" he said, leaning against the door and looking almost disappointed.
"I'd like you more if you at least tried to be considerate," I snapped. Okay, that sounded mean even to me.
"Right. See ya."
As soon as he was gone I slammed my book shut and flopped down on the couch. All right so I may not have been completely truthful when I said I hated my roommate. But hating him is easier than well…liking him.
He's really charming and even though he's cocky as fuck and loud and rude and…wait…why do I like him again? Oh right, because at the beginning of the year he helped me out when a couple guys cornered me behind one of the buildings. One of them had a pair of brass knuckles, so if Jack hadn't come along I would have been totally screwed.
It just pisses me off that after the incident, he barely notices my existence. He's out every night with the guys or some new girl. I wish for once he wanted to hang out with me.
Around 5:00 I dragged myself to the cafeteria to meet up with Racetrack for dinner.
"Hiya Davey, how's it goin?" he asked, taking a larger bite of his burger.
"Meh," I said, staring into my tomato soup.
"Problems with Jack then. Okay, you've got to do something about it man. It's making you miserable.
"Well if I tell him he'll beat me to a pulp and I'm trying to move on, but I can't."
"You don't know how he feels. He won't beat you to a pulp, at worst he'll give ya a black eye and then be done with it," he said reassuringly.
"Gee, that makes me feel loads better."
"Anytime Davey."
"For someone so well versed in sarcasm, you sure have a hell of a time recognizing it."
"Whatever. Listen man I gotta go. I've got a date."
"Who with?"
"Never you mind. I'm sure you'll find out. If the date goes well anyway."
He yanked his baseball cap on and practically bolted away from the table. Even Racetrack has a life. As if I need a reason to feel shittier.
I tossed a turned in bed that night, unable to sleep with Jack on my mind. His stupid floppy black hair and his stupid green eyes and his sexy—I mean stupid accent. I've lived in New York my whole life, but not in the same part Jack was from so I never really picked the accent up.
A series of crashes and an "Oh fuck!" from the living room told me Jack just rolled in. So loud. Dammit that's it, I can't take it! I stomped out of bed and into the common space.
"Jesus Jack could you be any—
I stopped abruptly as I switched on the light and got a good look at Jack. One of his eyes was red a puffy, his knuckles were bleeding, and there was blood seeping through the back of his shirt.
"Holy shit, what the fuck happened to you?!"
"Got in a fight, don't worry about it. I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine, just go back to bed," he grunted.
"The hell I will, get your ass into the bathroom right now."
"Wow Davey, I think that's the most I've ever heard you swear."
"Now!"
Much to my surprise he obeyed. I could tell it hurt him to walk, so I slipped one arm around his waist and put his arm over my shoulder.
Once I got him to the bathroom I made him sit on the edge on the bathtub and busied myself with the first aid kit.
"Take off your shirt."
"You really don't have to—
"Just do it."
He pulled his shirt up and over his head, wincing as he did so. An odd rush of emotions rushed over me. On the one hand he had perfect abs and lightly toned arms and it was hard to look away. On the other hand he was covered with faded bruises and scars that made me want to cover my eyes.
Armed with first aid supplies I climbed into the empty bathtub behind him to get a good look at his back. There was too much blood to really see the wound so I set about cleaning it. I turned on the warm was, soaking a washcloth.
"You're gonna get wet," Jack pointed out.
"I don't care."
Switching off the water I dabbed gently at his back with the cloth, trying to be as gently as possible. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the wound wasn't as bad as it looked.
"Could you hand me the rubbing alcohol?"
"Here you go…this is gonna sting like a bitch ain't it?"
"Probably."
I touched the cotton ball to his wound softly.
"Mrgh!" he groaned, his muscles tensing.
I tried not to stare as his muscles twitched at every touch of the cotton ball. My eyes traveled up to his shoulder where I was surprised to see the word "STRIKE!" in black ink.
"I didn't know you had a tattoo."
"Yeah, got it over the summer."
"I like it," I said, unable to stop myself from reaching up to touch it. I gently traced the outline of each letter. Jack shivered. Swallowing hard I pulled my hand away and quickly patched the wound up with a fair amount of gauze.
Next I climbed out of the tub and came around in front of him to take care of his eye. Even puffy and red he still had gorgeous eyes. Once again I ran the cloth under warm water, then pressed it to his eye.
"You know Davey, you're really pretty," he mused.
"W-what? Do y-you have a head injury?" I asked, blushing.
"Nope. Just sayin is all. Your eyes are just so…blue."
He leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine in a soft but firm kiss. As if his brain caught up with is body's actions he pulled away, eyes widening.
"I'm sorry Davey! I-I wasn't thinkin!" he sputtered.
I just stared at him.
"Oh God, I'm such an idiot. You hate me! Why the hell did I think that was a good idea?!" he hid his face in his hands.
I opened my mouth to say something, but shut it abruptly when I saw his shoulders shaking. No fucking way. I made Jack Kelly cry!
"Jack," I said gently.
He shook his head, refusing to look at me.
"Jesus Jack, it's okay. It's not like you hurt me."
I placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jump just slightly.
"I would have told you earlier Jack, but I thought you'd pound me. I…I love you!"
His head shot up and his eyes locked with mine. I sucked in a breath at the sight of the tears still running down his cheeks.
"Please don't cry," I murmured.
"Davey," he breathed.
I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. One of his hands fisted the back of my shirt, while the other tangled in my hair. I pulled myself as close to him as possible, groaning as his tongue slid into my mouth. He was a freakin expert with his tongue. It slid against mine teasingly, then disappeared all together, leaving me wanting more. I nibbled on his bottom lip, which clearly drove him crazy because he practically growled against my mouth. Holy shit!
Somewhere in my hazy thoughts, I realized he was still injured and probably shouldn't be overexerting himself. Damn. I pulled back and pressed my forehead against his.
"We have to stop. You shouldn't push yourself to hard until your injuries heal."
"Fuck the injuries, I want you in my bed NOW."
God that was hot. Maybe we could— no David no! He needs to rest.
"Come on Jack, you really need to rest," I said, helping him to his feet.
Once I got him into the room and finally managed to get him to keep his hands to himself, I tucked him into bed.
"Night Jack," I said, turning to leave.
He caught my arm.
"Please, stay?" he pleaded.
I smiled, sighing and climbing into bed next to him. He pulled me against his chest, nuzzling my hair.
"Hey Davey?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you too."