Chapter Five: Lies From A Hero (Burn's POV)
He lied to me. Flat out lied to my face. I'm still in some form of shock trying to figure out why he would lie to me.
I suppose I can understand his reasons. I mean, when I told him what we (as in the other Brooklyn boys and me) thought about Jack, I guess I did sound ridiculously sickened by the whole ordeal. But he had seemed so angry, so utterly pissed off that I could even think that about the "great" Jack Kelly. And so he lied to me. Told me Jack never tried anything with him, that he was straight. Covering up himself in the process.
Maybe I noticed something in the intensity in which he said the words. The way he yelled at me. Maybe, in the back on my mind, I knew he was lying to me. And maybe that was why I "forgot" to tell the other guys that the rumors about Jack Kelly weren't true. And I guess that's why, when Spot asked me and Splinter to leave his room while Kelly was cleaning him, I stayed behind and listened to their conversation on the other side of the door. Splinter had wandered somewhere else and suspiciously I pressed my ear to the thin door.
Someone should really tell them that you can hear everything from the other side.
"Don't be stupid Spot. You're not invincible you know." I heard Jack's voice speaking first. I must've missed the beginning of the conversation. But what surprised me even more was that Spot just let him speak to him like that.
"What'da mean?" Spot countered, his voice was small and misunderstanding.
"I mean I don't want you making any rushed decisions. It took Burn, Splinter and me a hour and a half to find you, and it only took that little of time because I remembered that you used the different way to go to the bridge," Jack answered angrily.
"So sorry yer highness. Next time I'se won't cause ya as much trouble. I'se 'ill jist die instead." I smirked at Spot's sarcasm. It was good to know that he still wasn't going to take any of that damned Manhattaner's disrespect.
"Don't even joke around like that. If you died - just be careful huh?" If I didn't know any better I would've said that Jack sounded remorseful or sad at the thought. But I can't be too sure.
Silence followed his statement for a little while. I heard the bed move under the pressure of Spot's body. I could only imagine that he was trying to sit up. But nothing more was said for a few moments, until Jack's disbelieving voice cut through my ears once again. He was whispering so I had to train my ears more to hear every word.
"What do you think you're doing?" I narrowed my eyes and waited for Spot's answer. An answer that about made me faint in absolute shock.
"Kissing you."
I snapped my head backward from the door and widened my eyes til I thought they might actually pop out of my head. I tried telling myself that he didn't mean that, that it wasn't true. But I wanted answers, and like the curiosity that killed the cat I leaned in for more information. For more lies to be uncovered.
". . . What I mean is why?" Jack's stage whispered voice said.
"Why not? Is it suddenly a crime fer me ta kiss youse?" Spot asked, sounding angry at Jack's cynical words.
"No. But yesterday -
Spot cut him off. What happened yesterday? I had noticed that when I came back to the lodging house after selling that Spot seemed down on something but the thought that Jack Kelly was the middle of it didn't even cross my mind at the time.
Stupid me huh?
"I know what I'se said yesterday. But dat was why I was going ta Manhattan in da foist place. I'se wanted ta talk to ya. I'se wanted to apologize an' . . . I'se want things back to da way da could've been if ya hadn't left," Spot's voice got softer and sadder as he continued speaking and I had to wonder if all these years I've been living in Brooklyn (five years) every time Spot had ever been sad, was it because Jack hadn't been there?
Silence came through again. I wished, suddenly, that there was a small window on the door so I could watch what was going on. I heard the bed move again, but I wasn't sure if Jack or Spot had been the one moving. The silence dragged on for a few agonizingly long moments before Spot spoke again.
"I love ya Jack."
With those words, I leapt from the door as if it was on fire. I didn't even want to hear Jack's answer. I knew exactly what it was going to be, and I didn't want to hear those words come from him. It would make the situation so much more real.
" 'Ay, Burn, youse alright?" Splinter's voice came into direct contact with my ringing ears as I tried to comprehend all that I had just heard.
I turned to the newsie which was standing just by me. His expression was confused as he watched me very closely. I bit my lip, wondering to myself if I should tell him about what I had heard. Sure, I didn't get along with me, and more often then not we fought like cats and dogs, but, something in the back of my mind, told me that he probably deserved to know.
"I'se fine," I answered slowly.
He nodded, but still looked unsure. "Alright, well, yer boys want some answers an' dey don' want 'im from me."
I nodded also and brushed past him on my way to the bunkroom were we all slept during the night. I stopped, abruptly, and turned back around to face him. "Are youse leaving yet?"
"Ya mean fer Manhattan? Nah, I'se 'ill wait for Jack ta finish 'is business 'ere. . .why?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously back at me. I had to bite my cheek from saying something about him never going home then, but kept the words down my throat.
"Cause I'se wants ta talk to ya about somethin important," I managed to say, and glared at him forcefully so he could understand that I was far from joking around about this.
"Sure Burn, sure. . ." He trailed off and watched me climb the rest of the stairs to where the rest of my boys were sitting, not so patiently, for my explanation of Spot's condition and the mysteriously new stranger.
"Burn, what happened ta Spot?" One of my bolder newsies, a skinny red- haired kid, appropriately nicknamed, 'Red', looked at me with wide anxious eyes.
I sighed. "Spot's a little. . .hurt."
"Why?" Red repeated, narrowing his own eyes.
"Don' know. 'E didn't tell me alright?" I snapped at him angrily. Searching for Spot for hours on end did not help my weariness. Especially with Splinter tagging along happily, snapping at me the whole time.
Red closed back into himself from my harsh tone and the others glanced at each other. Not knowing how to approach the next question all of them had on their minds. I'm stubborn though, if they want to know who Jack is, then they can ask me personally or never find out.
"An' dat guy dat was with youse an' Splinter. . .da one holdin Spot. . .who is 'e?" Cross-Match asked me, an uncertain look in his eyes. Others around him turned to me, gazing as they patiently waited for my answer.
I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair. "Dat was da almighty Jack Kelly himself."
The room fell to an eerie realm of silence as the information sank into their minds slowly. Once the name had really reached their comprehension and the reality fell into their expressions, I saw the hatred and disgust also add into that. They all began to frown, believing the rumors so many Queens and Bronx kids had told us over the years. The rumors that Spot himself has lied to me about. Lied to my own damn face as if he didn't respect me at all.
"Ya mean, DA Jack Kelly. Da Manhattan leadeah, da one who. . ." Crazy trailed off, his lips curling into a frown. I closed my eyes and despite my better judgement, decided to tell them the same lies I had been told.
"It's da same Kelly alright, but, well, Spot wanted me ta talk to ya about dem rumors about 'im. . .it seems dat nuthin like dat eveah happened. In fact, Spot told me dat dey is da best of friends."
I think there shocked expressions were something that shouldn't be taken for granted, and I instantly wished I had decided to not deny the rumors ever being real. But for there own good, I pushed the thought out of my mind and waited for an further comments from them so I could break and go and talk to Splinter finally.
"So is Jack gone now?" Crazy continued, voice soft and calculating.
"No. 'E's in wit Spot, cleanin 'im up."
"Alone?"
"Yeah. An' befoah ya say somethin, Spot was da one ta tell me an' Splinter ta get da hell out," I rapidly explained, not wanting anyone to jump down my throat for leaving the two ex leaders alone. Together. (And is that a oxymoron?) "Now, if ya's don' mind, I'se gots ta talk ta Splinter - alone - fer a few minutes. Leader business alright? Don' nobody be interruptin us."
They nodded reluctantly, and I barely waited to see them turn to each other to gossip wildly before I was out the door and down the stairs to where Splinter was sitting in one of the chairs, a cigarette handing casually between his lips. He moved only slightly when I came over to him. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked and seemed to be questioning me with his own blue eyes.
"Youse sure youse okay dere Burn? Ya look a little worn out," He said softly, maybe understanding the importance of the message I was going to give him and talking only in a whisper to guarantee that nobody else was going to hear him.
"No, I ain't okay. Me boys jist gave me a hard time because yer boy Jack is 'ere," I snapped lightly at him. He raised his hands in so called defeat and continued to stare at me. He has a abundance of patience that I do not. Maybe that was something that made him such a good leader.
"Dere a reason dey gots a problem wit Jack being 'ere?" He asked, breathing out a long somewhat sensual line of smoke in my face. Bastard.
"Well, dey think dat Kelly's gay," I told 'im.
"An' why do dey think dat?"
"Rumors dat wese been hearing all our lives."
"Ah. An' what ya 'ad ta convince dem dat dey weren't true or else dey was gonna flip out on ya right?" He said in a completely calm voice.
"Yeah. It's hard ta convince people something's not right when it's actually true."
Splinter just stared back at me, taking another drag from his cigarette. "An' why would ya say dat Burny?" He asked me in that annoying way of his.
"Because it's true. I'se heard 'im talking ta each other after wese left da room. An' Spot kissed 'im an' said 'e loved Jack, an'. . .'e lied ta me. 'E told me dat Jack nevah came onto 'im." I shuddered visibly with rage.
"Maybe 'e wasn't lying. Maybe Spot was da one dat came on ta Jack foist," Splinter shrugged, finishing off his cigarette and lighting up another one.
That suggestion hit me. Maybe that was true. . .Spot was the one that kissed Jack in the room not the other way around and Jack actually seemed a little reluctant. . .wait. Why wasn't Splinter surprised about all this? I turned accusing eyes to him, which promptly made him stare back imploringly at me.
"Why ain't youse surprised about dis?" I asked him. He shrugged.
"Don' know. Maybe it's because I'se can see somethin like dis happening. . .or, hell, I don' know. Why are youse so surprised? Or disgusted?" He turned the question back on me.
"Because dere two guys," I answered dumbly. I mean, isn't dat what everyone would think?
Splinter looked at me hard, as if he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. And when he figured I was, he burst out laughing. "Youse ain't serious are youse? Please tell me ya ain't serious!" He howled with laughter, while I watched him stunned beyond belief.
"An' dere's a problem wit me being serious about dis?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest angrily.
"Of course dere is! I mean, do youse mean ta tell me in all da time youse been a newsie youse ain't eveah checked anudder guy out?" Splinter looked at me with laughing eyes, a smirk gaining complete control over his teenage face.
I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly closed it and glared at him in frustration and disbelief. "Of course I'se ain't eveah checked anudder guy out! Dat jist ain't right."
Splinter rolled his eyes in the direction of the low hanging ceiling, taking a quick drag of his cigarette, he leaned forward from his chair towards me. (I had long since sat down in a chair positioned across from his) "Oh, come on, Burn. Youse gotta be lying. Fer five years ya been bathing, sleeping and generally living with other guys yer age. Ya can't sit dere an' tell me ya ain't neveah looked at another guy like ya normally look at da goils."
"Well. . .I'se ain't. Why, 'ave you?" I asked, almost wishing the minute the words left my mouth that I hadn't said them.
"Sure, as long as dey look good an' can stand up fer demselves, who da hell cares what kind of parts dey got?" Splinter asked, sticking his cigarette back into his mouth, speaking in a ridiculously monotonous voice.
I just stared. Complete shock had taken over my body. Again, Splinter laughed at my expression, but then suddenly grew serious. He put out his cigarette and leaned in even more to me. Against my more logical side, I didn't move.
"But youse ain't gonna say nothin to yer boys are ya? Because even if me own boys don' care, I'se don' want ta 'ave no wars wit you an' yer boys ya hear?" He said, and for a moment I thought I may have heard some kind of pleading in his normally strong voice.
"Sure. . . I'se won't say nothin," I answered honestly.
He nodded, looked at my face a little closer, letting his eyes roam over my face briefly before leaning back slowly in his chair.
"So dis whole business wit Jack an' Spotty boy. . . youse ain't gonna freak out no more are ya? Ya ain't gonna go babbling yer mouth like always are ya?" He asked me, glaring daggers to make sure I knew what the consequences would be if I didn't agree with him.
Sighing, I nodded. "Nah. . . no one would believe me if I'se told 'im dat Spot was gay anyway."
Splinter smirked. "Yeah, I'se see what 'cha mean. I'se certainly didn't think so either, but I'se know ya wouldn't lie ta me, now would ya Burny?" He said mockingly, joking with me. When I glared at him, he merely winked at me and stood up to stretch the coldness out of his tall frame.
"So, Brooklyn, ya's got anudder bunk I'se could use fer da night? Because it don' seem like dere gonna be coming out anytime tonight," Splinter said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me. I groaned and pushed him in the general direction of the bunkhouse.
Casting one more glance in the direction of Spot's bedroom, I swallowed hard and contained my senses. I wasn't as grossed out as the other guys, but then hearing what Splinter said. . . it makes me wonder. Probably more then I should be wondering about a topic like that. But hey, tomorrow, I can just blame it on the fact that I was so tired that maybe I was hearing things.
Or maybe not. . .
* * *
A/N: Sorry, I just felt I had to write that chapter, because, well, I was sick of putting up the false pretenses and Burn and Splinter are kind of like main characters so. . . but the next chapter will be all Jack/Spot for you. With some more of that added drama. Plus, this chapter was the only "POV" chapter I'm going to write in this story. Just to let you know. But anyway, I've already started the sixth chapter so, be looking for that hopefully soon.
Special thanks to:
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: I do care! Seriously!!! And damn the colleges of America and their jockiness. (Ha! A new word!) But seriously, your welcome for updating. And thank you of my own.
kellyanne: I feel the same way, I totally deprived him of any Jack action for, like, ever, and so I decided he definitely needed to get some or he would become all cranky and stuff. Try not to let Thistle kill you huh? Thanks anyways.
SpotLover421: I needed to bring Rage back, because well, he's an added asshole to the story. You know, an obstacle. And yes, you are on my spell check. (hehe) I seriously do need to update Modern Torture and Delinquent Central, soon or I'm going to bug myself forever. Thanks for the review. And the reminder.
TheCrazyUnknown: Seriously, gay guys and sweetness is very not fair. I have a gay friend and he is ridiculously sweet. Ticks me off sometimes. And I updated so there's no need to kidnap Jack or anything. . . please? Thanks.
He lied to me. Flat out lied to my face. I'm still in some form of shock trying to figure out why he would lie to me.
I suppose I can understand his reasons. I mean, when I told him what we (as in the other Brooklyn boys and me) thought about Jack, I guess I did sound ridiculously sickened by the whole ordeal. But he had seemed so angry, so utterly pissed off that I could even think that about the "great" Jack Kelly. And so he lied to me. Told me Jack never tried anything with him, that he was straight. Covering up himself in the process.
Maybe I noticed something in the intensity in which he said the words. The way he yelled at me. Maybe, in the back on my mind, I knew he was lying to me. And maybe that was why I "forgot" to tell the other guys that the rumors about Jack Kelly weren't true. And I guess that's why, when Spot asked me and Splinter to leave his room while Kelly was cleaning him, I stayed behind and listened to their conversation on the other side of the door. Splinter had wandered somewhere else and suspiciously I pressed my ear to the thin door.
Someone should really tell them that you can hear everything from the other side.
"Don't be stupid Spot. You're not invincible you know." I heard Jack's voice speaking first. I must've missed the beginning of the conversation. But what surprised me even more was that Spot just let him speak to him like that.
"What'da mean?" Spot countered, his voice was small and misunderstanding.
"I mean I don't want you making any rushed decisions. It took Burn, Splinter and me a hour and a half to find you, and it only took that little of time because I remembered that you used the different way to go to the bridge," Jack answered angrily.
"So sorry yer highness. Next time I'se won't cause ya as much trouble. I'se 'ill jist die instead." I smirked at Spot's sarcasm. It was good to know that he still wasn't going to take any of that damned Manhattaner's disrespect.
"Don't even joke around like that. If you died - just be careful huh?" If I didn't know any better I would've said that Jack sounded remorseful or sad at the thought. But I can't be too sure.
Silence followed his statement for a little while. I heard the bed move under the pressure of Spot's body. I could only imagine that he was trying to sit up. But nothing more was said for a few moments, until Jack's disbelieving voice cut through my ears once again. He was whispering so I had to train my ears more to hear every word.
"What do you think you're doing?" I narrowed my eyes and waited for Spot's answer. An answer that about made me faint in absolute shock.
"Kissing you."
I snapped my head backward from the door and widened my eyes til I thought they might actually pop out of my head. I tried telling myself that he didn't mean that, that it wasn't true. But I wanted answers, and like the curiosity that killed the cat I leaned in for more information. For more lies to be uncovered.
". . . What I mean is why?" Jack's stage whispered voice said.
"Why not? Is it suddenly a crime fer me ta kiss youse?" Spot asked, sounding angry at Jack's cynical words.
"No. But yesterday -
Spot cut him off. What happened yesterday? I had noticed that when I came back to the lodging house after selling that Spot seemed down on something but the thought that Jack Kelly was the middle of it didn't even cross my mind at the time.
Stupid me huh?
"I know what I'se said yesterday. But dat was why I was going ta Manhattan in da foist place. I'se wanted ta talk to ya. I'se wanted to apologize an' . . . I'se want things back to da way da could've been if ya hadn't left," Spot's voice got softer and sadder as he continued speaking and I had to wonder if all these years I've been living in Brooklyn (five years) every time Spot had ever been sad, was it because Jack hadn't been there?
Silence came through again. I wished, suddenly, that there was a small window on the door so I could watch what was going on. I heard the bed move again, but I wasn't sure if Jack or Spot had been the one moving. The silence dragged on for a few agonizingly long moments before Spot spoke again.
"I love ya Jack."
With those words, I leapt from the door as if it was on fire. I didn't even want to hear Jack's answer. I knew exactly what it was going to be, and I didn't want to hear those words come from him. It would make the situation so much more real.
" 'Ay, Burn, youse alright?" Splinter's voice came into direct contact with my ringing ears as I tried to comprehend all that I had just heard.
I turned to the newsie which was standing just by me. His expression was confused as he watched me very closely. I bit my lip, wondering to myself if I should tell him about what I had heard. Sure, I didn't get along with me, and more often then not we fought like cats and dogs, but, something in the back of my mind, told me that he probably deserved to know.
"I'se fine," I answered slowly.
He nodded, but still looked unsure. "Alright, well, yer boys want some answers an' dey don' want 'im from me."
I nodded also and brushed past him on my way to the bunkroom were we all slept during the night. I stopped, abruptly, and turned back around to face him. "Are youse leaving yet?"
"Ya mean fer Manhattan? Nah, I'se 'ill wait for Jack ta finish 'is business 'ere. . .why?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously back at me. I had to bite my cheek from saying something about him never going home then, but kept the words down my throat.
"Cause I'se wants ta talk to ya about somethin important," I managed to say, and glared at him forcefully so he could understand that I was far from joking around about this.
"Sure Burn, sure. . ." He trailed off and watched me climb the rest of the stairs to where the rest of my boys were sitting, not so patiently, for my explanation of Spot's condition and the mysteriously new stranger.
"Burn, what happened ta Spot?" One of my bolder newsies, a skinny red- haired kid, appropriately nicknamed, 'Red', looked at me with wide anxious eyes.
I sighed. "Spot's a little. . .hurt."
"Why?" Red repeated, narrowing his own eyes.
"Don' know. 'E didn't tell me alright?" I snapped at him angrily. Searching for Spot for hours on end did not help my weariness. Especially with Splinter tagging along happily, snapping at me the whole time.
Red closed back into himself from my harsh tone and the others glanced at each other. Not knowing how to approach the next question all of them had on their minds. I'm stubborn though, if they want to know who Jack is, then they can ask me personally or never find out.
"An' dat guy dat was with youse an' Splinter. . .da one holdin Spot. . .who is 'e?" Cross-Match asked me, an uncertain look in his eyes. Others around him turned to me, gazing as they patiently waited for my answer.
I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair. "Dat was da almighty Jack Kelly himself."
The room fell to an eerie realm of silence as the information sank into their minds slowly. Once the name had really reached their comprehension and the reality fell into their expressions, I saw the hatred and disgust also add into that. They all began to frown, believing the rumors so many Queens and Bronx kids had told us over the years. The rumors that Spot himself has lied to me about. Lied to my own damn face as if he didn't respect me at all.
"Ya mean, DA Jack Kelly. Da Manhattan leadeah, da one who. . ." Crazy trailed off, his lips curling into a frown. I closed my eyes and despite my better judgement, decided to tell them the same lies I had been told.
"It's da same Kelly alright, but, well, Spot wanted me ta talk to ya about dem rumors about 'im. . .it seems dat nuthin like dat eveah happened. In fact, Spot told me dat dey is da best of friends."
I think there shocked expressions were something that shouldn't be taken for granted, and I instantly wished I had decided to not deny the rumors ever being real. But for there own good, I pushed the thought out of my mind and waited for an further comments from them so I could break and go and talk to Splinter finally.
"So is Jack gone now?" Crazy continued, voice soft and calculating.
"No. 'E's in wit Spot, cleanin 'im up."
"Alone?"
"Yeah. An' befoah ya say somethin, Spot was da one ta tell me an' Splinter ta get da hell out," I rapidly explained, not wanting anyone to jump down my throat for leaving the two ex leaders alone. Together. (And is that a oxymoron?) "Now, if ya's don' mind, I'se gots ta talk ta Splinter - alone - fer a few minutes. Leader business alright? Don' nobody be interruptin us."
They nodded reluctantly, and I barely waited to see them turn to each other to gossip wildly before I was out the door and down the stairs to where Splinter was sitting in one of the chairs, a cigarette handing casually between his lips. He moved only slightly when I came over to him. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked and seemed to be questioning me with his own blue eyes.
"Youse sure youse okay dere Burn? Ya look a little worn out," He said softly, maybe understanding the importance of the message I was going to give him and talking only in a whisper to guarantee that nobody else was going to hear him.
"No, I ain't okay. Me boys jist gave me a hard time because yer boy Jack is 'ere," I snapped lightly at him. He raised his hands in so called defeat and continued to stare at me. He has a abundance of patience that I do not. Maybe that was something that made him such a good leader.
"Dere a reason dey gots a problem wit Jack being 'ere?" He asked, breathing out a long somewhat sensual line of smoke in my face. Bastard.
"Well, dey think dat Kelly's gay," I told 'im.
"An' why do dey think dat?"
"Rumors dat wese been hearing all our lives."
"Ah. An' what ya 'ad ta convince dem dat dey weren't true or else dey was gonna flip out on ya right?" He said in a completely calm voice.
"Yeah. It's hard ta convince people something's not right when it's actually true."
Splinter just stared back at me, taking another drag from his cigarette. "An' why would ya say dat Burny?" He asked me in that annoying way of his.
"Because it's true. I'se heard 'im talking ta each other after wese left da room. An' Spot kissed 'im an' said 'e loved Jack, an'. . .'e lied ta me. 'E told me dat Jack nevah came onto 'im." I shuddered visibly with rage.
"Maybe 'e wasn't lying. Maybe Spot was da one dat came on ta Jack foist," Splinter shrugged, finishing off his cigarette and lighting up another one.
That suggestion hit me. Maybe that was true. . .Spot was the one that kissed Jack in the room not the other way around and Jack actually seemed a little reluctant. . .wait. Why wasn't Splinter surprised about all this? I turned accusing eyes to him, which promptly made him stare back imploringly at me.
"Why ain't youse surprised about dis?" I asked him. He shrugged.
"Don' know. Maybe it's because I'se can see somethin like dis happening. . .or, hell, I don' know. Why are youse so surprised? Or disgusted?" He turned the question back on me.
"Because dere two guys," I answered dumbly. I mean, isn't dat what everyone would think?
Splinter looked at me hard, as if he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. And when he figured I was, he burst out laughing. "Youse ain't serious are youse? Please tell me ya ain't serious!" He howled with laughter, while I watched him stunned beyond belief.
"An' dere's a problem wit me being serious about dis?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest angrily.
"Of course dere is! I mean, do youse mean ta tell me in all da time youse been a newsie youse ain't eveah checked anudder guy out?" Splinter looked at me with laughing eyes, a smirk gaining complete control over his teenage face.
I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly closed it and glared at him in frustration and disbelief. "Of course I'se ain't eveah checked anudder guy out! Dat jist ain't right."
Splinter rolled his eyes in the direction of the low hanging ceiling, taking a quick drag of his cigarette, he leaned forward from his chair towards me. (I had long since sat down in a chair positioned across from his) "Oh, come on, Burn. Youse gotta be lying. Fer five years ya been bathing, sleeping and generally living with other guys yer age. Ya can't sit dere an' tell me ya ain't neveah looked at another guy like ya normally look at da goils."
"Well. . .I'se ain't. Why, 'ave you?" I asked, almost wishing the minute the words left my mouth that I hadn't said them.
"Sure, as long as dey look good an' can stand up fer demselves, who da hell cares what kind of parts dey got?" Splinter asked, sticking his cigarette back into his mouth, speaking in a ridiculously monotonous voice.
I just stared. Complete shock had taken over my body. Again, Splinter laughed at my expression, but then suddenly grew serious. He put out his cigarette and leaned in even more to me. Against my more logical side, I didn't move.
"But youse ain't gonna say nothin to yer boys are ya? Because even if me own boys don' care, I'se don' want ta 'ave no wars wit you an' yer boys ya hear?" He said, and for a moment I thought I may have heard some kind of pleading in his normally strong voice.
"Sure. . . I'se won't say nothin," I answered honestly.
He nodded, looked at my face a little closer, letting his eyes roam over my face briefly before leaning back slowly in his chair.
"So dis whole business wit Jack an' Spotty boy. . . youse ain't gonna freak out no more are ya? Ya ain't gonna go babbling yer mouth like always are ya?" He asked me, glaring daggers to make sure I knew what the consequences would be if I didn't agree with him.
Sighing, I nodded. "Nah. . . no one would believe me if I'se told 'im dat Spot was gay anyway."
Splinter smirked. "Yeah, I'se see what 'cha mean. I'se certainly didn't think so either, but I'se know ya wouldn't lie ta me, now would ya Burny?" He said mockingly, joking with me. When I glared at him, he merely winked at me and stood up to stretch the coldness out of his tall frame.
"So, Brooklyn, ya's got anudder bunk I'se could use fer da night? Because it don' seem like dere gonna be coming out anytime tonight," Splinter said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me. I groaned and pushed him in the general direction of the bunkhouse.
Casting one more glance in the direction of Spot's bedroom, I swallowed hard and contained my senses. I wasn't as grossed out as the other guys, but then hearing what Splinter said. . . it makes me wonder. Probably more then I should be wondering about a topic like that. But hey, tomorrow, I can just blame it on the fact that I was so tired that maybe I was hearing things.
Or maybe not. . .
* * *
A/N: Sorry, I just felt I had to write that chapter, because, well, I was sick of putting up the false pretenses and Burn and Splinter are kind of like main characters so. . . but the next chapter will be all Jack/Spot for you. With some more of that added drama. Plus, this chapter was the only "POV" chapter I'm going to write in this story. Just to let you know. But anyway, I've already started the sixth chapter so, be looking for that hopefully soon.
Special thanks to:
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: I do care! Seriously!!! And damn the colleges of America and their jockiness. (Ha! A new word!) But seriously, your welcome for updating. And thank you of my own.
kellyanne: I feel the same way, I totally deprived him of any Jack action for, like, ever, and so I decided he definitely needed to get some or he would become all cranky and stuff. Try not to let Thistle kill you huh? Thanks anyways.
SpotLover421: I needed to bring Rage back, because well, he's an added asshole to the story. You know, an obstacle. And yes, you are on my spell check. (hehe) I seriously do need to update Modern Torture and Delinquent Central, soon or I'm going to bug myself forever. Thanks for the review. And the reminder.
TheCrazyUnknown: Seriously, gay guys and sweetness is very not fair. I have a gay friend and he is ridiculously sweet. Ticks me off sometimes. And I updated so there's no need to kidnap Jack or anything. . . please? Thanks.