Author's Notes: Well, I have one extra warning for this chapter. We've already established that this is slash, but now we get sex (which I'm sure will please some of you ^_^). Nothing too explicit, but if this squicks you, skip the last part. And Sinhe!!! You get more muffins for your help!! (You'll have a roomful by the time this is done, dahling) ONWARD!!!!! ::gestures wildly::
Mush-Footsteps
I walked quickly down the deserted street. My footsteps echoed eerily in the quiet, breaking the silence of the night. I hurried through darkened alleyways and twisted shadows, listening for another set of footsteps. For the angry, vengeful steps of my best friend.
He was out here somewhere, wandering the maze of New York in search of justice. Not the kind with courtrooms and judges and lawyers. This was the street justice, the blood justice. The justice that we answered to. He was searching for the abusers, so he could further the vicious cycle. He was what the street trash must answer to. He was thier dark angel, was thier reason to fear the shadows.
I'd never seen him like this, never seen him consumed with a cold rage. Normally when Blink got mad, he shouted, he cursed, he yelled until something was fixed. He had a short temper, but he always burned out in a day or so. He never stayed angry. But tonight...oh god, tonight he was furious.
He was quiet. That's what scared me the most. Blink was hardly ever quiet. He was always talking, always moving and laughing. Even if it meant getting in trouble or getting himself hurt, he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. To most people, he must seem to have an inexhaustable source of energy, like he never needed to sleep. But I knew better.
I knew Blink was afraid of the silence.
He was afraid to let someone near him, afraid to show what he was really feeling. I've known him since I was ten, and he's never once acted like he was sad. During the strike, when we all thought Jack had betrayed us, he never cried, he never showed how much it had hurt him. That's always the way he's been. Pretending to be angry when he was scared, pretending to be happy when he was sad. He was always pretending.
And I pretended that I couldn't see right through him.
Of course, he though he was fooling everyone. He thought no one else saw the slight shadow in his face, the tinge of bitterness to his smile. Maybe no one else really noticed. But I did. And it tore at my heart.
I hated to see him forcing himself to be happy. I hated watching him plaster a grin on his face. I wanted to shake him and tell him how much he meant to everyone. I wanted to hold him until he broke down and cried in my arms. I wanted to rip off his smiling mask and see what was underneath. If there was anything at all.
I sometimes wonder what happened to him. I wonder where he lived before he became a newsie, before he had his eyepatch. I wonder what his family was like, if he even remembered them. I wonder who made him think he had to hide behind a jester's smile.
A sudden sound jerked me back to reality. I was at the back of Medda's place. A shadow was walking away from me. A familiar shadow.
"Blink?" I called out uncertianly.
The shape whirled around. It was dark, but I knew his face even at midnight in deserted alley.
"Mush. Whadda ya doin' heah?" he asked, stepping toward me.
"I-Ise came ta make shoah youse didn't get hurt," I replied, not wanting to say that Bumlets sent me.
He rolled his eyes. "Mush, Ise can take care o' myself, aright? I don't need a babysittah."
"Blink, youse stormed outta the Lodgin' House like you was gonna kill somebody!" I said, not in the mood for his games. "An' not just one guy, but t'ree! An' all by yourself? Youse coulda gotten hurt worse dan Bumlets!"
He snorted. "Lis'en. I'll be fine, okay? I promise I won't get myself inta any moah trouble dan usual," he said, trying to push past me.
I stood my ground. "Don't make me promises ya can't keep, Blink. Youse gonna go take on t'ree people that're taller dan you, stronger dan you, and way more mean. Don't kid yourself inta t'inkin' you can handle it."
He stopped for a minute, taken aback at my sharp response. Then his expression shifted from surprise to anger. "Look Mush, I can't just let goons like dat push my friends around, okay? They ain't got no right. And if no one else's gonna make 'em pay, den I will. So get outta my way." He started to go around me, but I pushed him up against the wall.
"I'm not gonna let youse do dis," I said, my face an inch from his. "I aready got one friend beat so bad 'e can't walk. The last t'ing I need is another friend gettin' soaked."
He struggled. "Mush, lemme go!" He tried to squirm away, but I held him firm.
"Blink, Ise not gonna let you get yourself hurt. Don't youse get it?" I asked him, my voice softening. "I care about youse too much for dat."
He stilled, and looked up at me. "What?"
"I care about youse," I said quietly. "I don't want you ta get hurt."
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "Really?"
"Yeah," I said, surprised that he needed reassurance. Didn't he know how much he meant to me?
"I-I care about you, too," he said, looking me in the eye.
I suddenly realized how close we were. My hands were still on his shoulders, the fabric of our shirts brushing together. We were so close our breath was mingling. Slowly, I drew my face to his. Just as slowly, he was moving closer to me. Before I had time to think, I was kissing him. Or he was kissing me.
He opened his mouth, and our tounges tangled. He tasted like woodsmoke and summer. My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, pulling him closer. I heard him groan low in his throat. He reached up and twined his fingers through my hair, holding my head in place. His other hand reached under my shirt and traced patterns on my skin.
A shiver of pleasure ran up my spine. I gripped the small of his back, and he growled again. I decided I liked having this effect on him. He bit my lip hard, and I shuddered. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He kissed his way down my neck, leaving a trail of bite marks. I started to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. I jerked away, alarmed.
Blink looked up at me. His lips shined wetly in the dark, and his good eye was half-closed with passion.
"Blink, what're we doing?"
"I-I don't know," he answered in a husky voice. "It just-felt right."
"But, we're both, I mean, isn't this...wrong?"
"Did you like it?" he asked me quietly.
I remembered what I had been doing a few seconds ago. "Yeah, I liked it."
He smiled. A genuine smile. "Well den, it can't be dat bad, can it?"
I looked at him, suddenly nervous. "Blink, I've never-I mean, not even with a girl..."
He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, "I'll show you. If you want me to."
I shivered when I felt his lips brush my ear. My answer, while not verbal, was a definate affirmative.
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Closing Comments: Yep, I chickened out at that last part. Sorry, anything more intense and I would set my computer on fire, I would be blushing so hard. Suffice to say that there was sex backstage at Medda's. Hope you enjoyed it, short as it was. Next up: Race's POV!
Mush-Footsteps
I walked quickly down the deserted street. My footsteps echoed eerily in the quiet, breaking the silence of the night. I hurried through darkened alleyways and twisted shadows, listening for another set of footsteps. For the angry, vengeful steps of my best friend.
He was out here somewhere, wandering the maze of New York in search of justice. Not the kind with courtrooms and judges and lawyers. This was the street justice, the blood justice. The justice that we answered to. He was searching for the abusers, so he could further the vicious cycle. He was what the street trash must answer to. He was thier dark angel, was thier reason to fear the shadows.
I'd never seen him like this, never seen him consumed with a cold rage. Normally when Blink got mad, he shouted, he cursed, he yelled until something was fixed. He had a short temper, but he always burned out in a day or so. He never stayed angry. But tonight...oh god, tonight he was furious.
He was quiet. That's what scared me the most. Blink was hardly ever quiet. He was always talking, always moving and laughing. Even if it meant getting in trouble or getting himself hurt, he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. To most people, he must seem to have an inexhaustable source of energy, like he never needed to sleep. But I knew better.
I knew Blink was afraid of the silence.
He was afraid to let someone near him, afraid to show what he was really feeling. I've known him since I was ten, and he's never once acted like he was sad. During the strike, when we all thought Jack had betrayed us, he never cried, he never showed how much it had hurt him. That's always the way he's been. Pretending to be angry when he was scared, pretending to be happy when he was sad. He was always pretending.
And I pretended that I couldn't see right through him.
Of course, he though he was fooling everyone. He thought no one else saw the slight shadow in his face, the tinge of bitterness to his smile. Maybe no one else really noticed. But I did. And it tore at my heart.
I hated to see him forcing himself to be happy. I hated watching him plaster a grin on his face. I wanted to shake him and tell him how much he meant to everyone. I wanted to hold him until he broke down and cried in my arms. I wanted to rip off his smiling mask and see what was underneath. If there was anything at all.
I sometimes wonder what happened to him. I wonder where he lived before he became a newsie, before he had his eyepatch. I wonder what his family was like, if he even remembered them. I wonder who made him think he had to hide behind a jester's smile.
A sudden sound jerked me back to reality. I was at the back of Medda's place. A shadow was walking away from me. A familiar shadow.
"Blink?" I called out uncertianly.
The shape whirled around. It was dark, but I knew his face even at midnight in deserted alley.
"Mush. Whadda ya doin' heah?" he asked, stepping toward me.
"I-Ise came ta make shoah youse didn't get hurt," I replied, not wanting to say that Bumlets sent me.
He rolled his eyes. "Mush, Ise can take care o' myself, aright? I don't need a babysittah."
"Blink, youse stormed outta the Lodgin' House like you was gonna kill somebody!" I said, not in the mood for his games. "An' not just one guy, but t'ree! An' all by yourself? Youse coulda gotten hurt worse dan Bumlets!"
He snorted. "Lis'en. I'll be fine, okay? I promise I won't get myself inta any moah trouble dan usual," he said, trying to push past me.
I stood my ground. "Don't make me promises ya can't keep, Blink. Youse gonna go take on t'ree people that're taller dan you, stronger dan you, and way more mean. Don't kid yourself inta t'inkin' you can handle it."
He stopped for a minute, taken aback at my sharp response. Then his expression shifted from surprise to anger. "Look Mush, I can't just let goons like dat push my friends around, okay? They ain't got no right. And if no one else's gonna make 'em pay, den I will. So get outta my way." He started to go around me, but I pushed him up against the wall.
"I'm not gonna let youse do dis," I said, my face an inch from his. "I aready got one friend beat so bad 'e can't walk. The last t'ing I need is another friend gettin' soaked."
He struggled. "Mush, lemme go!" He tried to squirm away, but I held him firm.
"Blink, Ise not gonna let you get yourself hurt. Don't youse get it?" I asked him, my voice softening. "I care about youse too much for dat."
He stilled, and looked up at me. "What?"
"I care about youse," I said quietly. "I don't want you ta get hurt."
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "Really?"
"Yeah," I said, surprised that he needed reassurance. Didn't he know how much he meant to me?
"I-I care about you, too," he said, looking me in the eye.
I suddenly realized how close we were. My hands were still on his shoulders, the fabric of our shirts brushing together. We were so close our breath was mingling. Slowly, I drew my face to his. Just as slowly, he was moving closer to me. Before I had time to think, I was kissing him. Or he was kissing me.
He opened his mouth, and our tounges tangled. He tasted like woodsmoke and summer. My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, pulling him closer. I heard him groan low in his throat. He reached up and twined his fingers through my hair, holding my head in place. His other hand reached under my shirt and traced patterns on my skin.
A shiver of pleasure ran up my spine. I gripped the small of his back, and he growled again. I decided I liked having this effect on him. He bit my lip hard, and I shuddered. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He kissed his way down my neck, leaving a trail of bite marks. I started to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. I jerked away, alarmed.
Blink looked up at me. His lips shined wetly in the dark, and his good eye was half-closed with passion.
"Blink, what're we doing?"
"I-I don't know," he answered in a husky voice. "It just-felt right."
"But, we're both, I mean, isn't this...wrong?"
"Did you like it?" he asked me quietly.
I remembered what I had been doing a few seconds ago. "Yeah, I liked it."
He smiled. A genuine smile. "Well den, it can't be dat bad, can it?"
I looked at him, suddenly nervous. "Blink, I've never-I mean, not even with a girl..."
He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, "I'll show you. If you want me to."
I shivered when I felt his lips brush my ear. My answer, while not verbal, was a definate affirmative.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Closing Comments: Yep, I chickened out at that last part. Sorry, anything more intense and I would set my computer on fire, I would be blushing so hard. Suffice to say that there was sex backstage at Medda's. Hope you enjoyed it, short as it was. Next up: Race's POV!