Title: Late Night
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Jack's tired this morning. Race wonders why.
Category: (Implied)Slash, humor
Warnings: None, really. Unless chronic fatigue on the part of the author counts as a warning.
Feedback: Yes, please. Constructive criticism is welcomed eagerly.
Archiving: Umm, I've never had anybody want to, but . . . sure. Just ask, if you would.
Note: This is just a lighthearted attempt at a bit o' slashy humor. Why slashy? Because I'm a diehard J/D fan and all my fics must contain some element of it. I was very tired when I decided to write this . . . and in my Middle English lit. course, no less. And then I continued it while eating lunch at the Gator Dining center. So if this is terrible, I place all blame on my English professor and the food. And fatigue. I want you all to know that this is the fastest I've written anything in quite a while. Happy feedback does that to me! Gimme more! Oh, and you might notice that I don't spell out the NY accent like many do. I like to imply it with a few choice words, contractions, and the like.
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Jack yawned. He stretched. He yawned again.
"Mornin', Cowboy. Late night?" Racetrack grinned and winked, his head tilted.
Jack groaned, running a hand over his face. "I s'pose you could say that, Race," he mumbled. Without thinking he reached up, his fingers tracing a reddened mark low on his neck, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Choking noises came from Race. Jack stiffened.
"Oh, God." Jack snatched the betraying hand away. Slowly he turned his head to look at Race.
Racetrack was leaning against a wall, laughter shaking his entire body. The wall appeared to be the only thing holding him up.
"You really did have a late night, didn'tcha Cowboy?" he choked out at last. "A real special night, huh?" Another broad wink in Jack's direction.
"Race--" Jack warned.
"Hey, Blink! Guess what Jack spent his night doin'!" Race shouted to the nearest Newsie. Blink's blonde head popped up from the crate it had been resting against. He took in Race's crazy grin and the way he was nudging Jack with his elbow, throwing in a slap on the back every so often. A slow, sly smile spread across Blink's face.
"You mean he wasn't all tucked up in bed like good newsboys was s'posed to be?" he asked, face lighting mischievously.
"Oh, no," Race said, solemnly. "Jack here had far more important things to do wit' his time last night."
"What was Jack doin' last night?" a curious voice asked from behind them.
Jack whirled around to see that Mush and several others had shown up in front of Weasel's office in time to hear the last comment.
"Well . . . " Racetrack began, gleefully.
Jack groaned.
As the rest of the Newsies arrived at the distribution center, Race and Blink made sure each heard the story. Jack leaned against a wall, arms crossed, pointedly ignoring the playful nudging and snickers. Race tried to pry more information from Jack.
"C'mon, Jack," he pleaded. "You can't leave me in the dark like this! Just tell me . . . who was it? Someone I know?" He smirked. "She gotta sister?"
"Jack!"
Suddenly, Les came hurtling through the crowd of older boys. "Jack, guess what! Today, when we were walkin' here, I found a frog on the sidewalk. What d'you think it was doin' there? And so I--"
"Calm down, Les," Jack laughed, ruffling the young boy's hair. "There's plenty of time to tell me when we're sellin'. Now, where's your brother?"
"Right here, Jack," said David, coming up to stand behind Les. "Hey, Race."
Race brightened up. "Heya, Dave. You'll never guess what I learned about our Jack Kelly here."
David yawned and ran a hand through his hair, sleepily. "Sorry. Late night," he explained. "Now, what did you learn about Jack?"
Jack began to laugh.