I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.
I am making no money from this story.
SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David
A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday.
This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.
Chapter 7 – The Showdown
"I wanna know what's in that damn box!" Jack shouted as he lunged forward. He grabbed Oscar's arm sending the box, and its contents, flying across the room.
"That's it, Kelly," Oscar hissed as he moved toward Jack. His eyes were drawn into narrow slits, and his fingers were clenched into white knuckled fists.
Jack took an instinctive step back, and both boys heard a crunch from under his boot.
An ache gripped Oscar's stomach as he watched Jack pick up the frame that held his mother's picture. The chinking sound rang in his ears as small shards of glass fell to the floor.
"I'm sorry," Jack said handing over the picture.
Oscar's breath snorted through his teeth as he charged at forward. He hit the taller boy square in the middle, and sent them both crashing to the floor. Oscar's arms flailed wildly as his fists beat against Jack's body.
"I'm sorry!" Jack shouted. He was using his arms to fend off the blows but made no move to strike back. "It was an accident! I didn't mean it!"
Finally, Oscar's rage had consumed his energy, and he rolled off of Jack. It took all of the strength he could muster to pull himself up and lean against the wall.
"Damn-it, Cowboy. Why couldn't you just let me be? You took everything. Why couldn't you just leave me with the little I had left?"
"What the hell did I ever take from you?"
"You took everything, Jack. You took my childhood because after the first day I brought you home all of my memories are of you and me together. You took my life after that first kiss because from then on everything I did, and everything I wanted, revolved around you . . . . Then you took me, Jack. You took me right here in this room, and then you turned on me. Now you have everything, and I have nothing."
"Don't blame me for your sorry life, pal. You're the one who went to Brooklyn to play house with that bastard, Conway."
"Who the fuck is Conway?"
"How big a fool do you think I am?"
"You don't really want me to answer that, do ya, Kelly?"
"You disappeared without a word. I thought that you were dead or somethin'. I even went to Brooklyn to try and find you. Then Spot Conlon tells me that this Conway is a queer . . . . You must've thought it was real funny that I was waitin' for you in this stinkin' basement while you were out in Brooklyn screwin' with that bastard."
"First of all, I'd be careful about callin' anybody a queer if I was you, Kelly. Second, I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about. I don't know anybody named Conway."
"Don't give me that crap! Your brother told me how much Conway liked you and that he offered you that job out in Brooklyn."
"And since when do you listen to anything that Morris says? He's a lying son-of-a-bitch who hates the sight of you. The thought of you dying is like a wet dream to that moron."
"Well, if you weren't in Brooklyn than what the hell happened to you?"
"This happened!" Oscar got to his knees and lifted the front of his shirt. "This is why I couldn't meet you here that night!"
The blood drained from Jack's face when he saw at the jagged scar along Oscar's ribs. It was a good seven inches in length and looked as though it was sewn together by a drunken sailor.
"Christ, Oscar," Jack whispered. He had to swallow hard to keep the contents of his stomach down. He shuddered as their last night together flashed through his mind. He remembered the feel of Oscar's flawless skin as his hands, and mouth, experienced every inch of the small and prefect body. Jack reached out to touch the scar, but his hand was slapped away.
"It's a real beauty isn't it?" Oscar sneered as he ran his hand along its length.
"What the hell happened?"
"Well, Jackey-boy. I guess that neither of us was as smart as we thought. When I walked into the house after leavin' here that night, Morris took one look at the bandanna around my neck and knew that it was yours. We traded a few punches, and I was holdin' my own against that goon, but then he got a look at what was underneath the bandanna. He was beatin' the shit outa me when Pop came home. Morris showed him the mark on my neck and told him that you'd put it there. Then my loving and understanding father told me that he'd rather have a dead son than a queer one, so he cut me."
"Damn, Oscar. You're lucky you're still alive."
"I wouldn't be if it wasn't for Ma . . . . You shoulda seen her, Jack. She hadn't gotten outa bed for weeks, and there she was. She picked up that big iron frying pan of hers and screamed for Pop to keep his hands offa me. Then she smacked him upside of the head."
Oscar reached into his shirt pocket and took out a cigarette. He struck a match against the wall and took a slow deep draw. "Then Ma walked over and patted me on the cheek like nothin' was wrong. She smiled and called me her little boy like she did when I was a kid. Then she walked back into her bedroom and closed the door. That was the last thing that Ma ever said to me. She never said a word after that night."
In a surprisingly friendly gesture, Oscar handed the cigarette to Jack.
"So how'd they get you stitched up?" Jack asked through the smoke escaping his lips.
"Morris went and got that old guy that does odd jobs around the neighborhood. He was a doctor till he killed too many patients by operating on them when he was drunk. I guess you can tell that he'd been drinkin' when he stitched me up too. When my old man came to, he let outa there like he was on fire. I guess that Pop was afraid that he'd be thrown into jail or somethin' cause he ain't been back since. Anyways, Morris paid the doc's old lady to come and take care of me and Ma while he was at work. I never made it to Brooklyn, Jack. I never left the house until the morning we had that fight at the gate."
"Jeese, Oscar. Why didn't you tell me about all this?"
"Why didn't you let me tell you? I tried to come and see you the next day. I got myself outa bed and was tryin' to get dressed when the dock's lousy stitchin' pulled open. He wasn't happy about havin' to stitch me up again. That's when he started giving me laudanum to keep me still. I wanted you to know that we were finally rid of Pop. I figured that with him gone, you and me could easily handle Morris. Then Ma would be safe, and you and me could be together again."
Oscar took a final drag on his cigarette then crushed it out on the floor. "I came to see you as soon as I could, Cowboy. And nothin' ever looked as good to me as you did that morning . . . . Then you punched me in the face, and that was the last time you talked to me. Well, except to pick a fight or somethin', that is."
"Oscar, if I'd known - -"
"You didn't want to know! You were tired of being with me, and you were lookin' for an excuse to get away. For months all you did was bitch about everything. It took less than a month for you to find a new best friend and a new family. Then Ma died a week after that."
"Yeah . . . . Like I said. I was real sorry to hear about your ma. I wanted to come and pay my respects, but . . . ."
"But you were too busy with Davey, and that damn strike of yours. It woulda been bad for your image to be seen at the funeral of Oscar and Morris' mother."
Oscar's words stung. Mostly because they were true.
"It was only five weeks, Jack. After all the time we waited, you couldn't hold out for five more weeks?" Oscar leaned his head back against the wall and laughed. "What am I saying? How could I expect you to wait five whole weeks? You wrote me off completely after one week. Hell, you wouldn't even wait five minutes for me to explain what happened! . . . .Well, you got what you wanted, Jack. You got it all, and I got this," Oscar muttered tapping his hand over the scar.
Jack couldn't answer. He knew that Oscar was right. He had been a bastard up until that last night. There was nothing he could say to convince Oscar that he was wrong about their last night together. It had changed everything.
Jack got to his feet and began gathering the contents of the cigar box that were now strewn across the room.
"Let that crap lay where it is, Jack. I don't want it anymore."
Jack ignored Oscar's grumbling and continued collecting the mementos. He found the cigar box lying on its side amongst its former contents. He turned the box over and was taken aback by the sight of the old Indian headband and faded red bandanna
"You kept these?" Jack asked with amazement. "After everything that happened, you still have this stuff?"
"Pitiful ain't it?" Oscar said, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. "Davey's sister's got that rotten old corsage in her memory box, and I have a crappy old headband, and a sweat stained bandanna. Christ! I didn't realize how pitiful I was until now."
"You're not pitiful. You're - - you're amazing."
"Don't mock me, Kelly!"
"I ain't mockin' you, Oscar. I'm serious! I was so damned quick to give up on . . . . Well, on everything. But you kept this stuff after all that happened."
"Shut your mouth, Cowboy, or I'll shut it for you!"
"But you don't understand," Jack said moving closer. "That last night here made things different. It was good between you and me again. I waited for you, Oscar. I waited all night. And then I tried to find you."
"Get away from me, Cowboy or so help me I'll make you sorry you ever met me!"
"No!" Jack said, holding up the bandanna and headband. "Don't try to pretend that you don't care about us because this proves that you do!"
Jack barely finished speaking when Oscar's fist collided with his jaw. He fell against a table but righted himself immediately. He spat out a small amount of blood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I ain't gonna be a fool this time, Chief. I ain't goin' away."
"Don't call me that, Cowboy," Oscar ordered, grabbing him by the vest and shaking him violently. "Don't you ever call me that again!"
"It ain't gonna work, Chief. I know that you still have feelin's for me."
Oscar slammed Jack against a support beam causing his breath to escape with a sharp thud. "What do you want from me, Cowboy! Why won't you just leave me alone!"
"Because this is what's right! It was you and me together all those years that was right. Your pop and Morris were wrong, and I was wrong for givin' up and not trustin' you. Even after Grandpa was gone and your ma took sick you held on. Your pop and Morris fought you every step of the way, and you still held on. Christ, you're half the size of your father, and you're more of a man than he ever was."
"Damn, Cowboy. All those years of makin' up headlines has turned you into quite a salesman."
"Whadda you mean by that?"
"I mean that you've got a better line of crap than my brother. I know you, Cowboy, and I know that you're workin' some kind of angle on me. . . . What's the matter? Ain't Davey-boy been takin' care of business? Did you have to come sniffin' around here to get - -"
"Don't say it, Oscar."
"Why not, Cowboy? That's what you really want, ain't it? The truth hurts when it slams you in the face, doesn't it? Well, let me make this easy on you."
Jack gaped as Oscar began unbuttoning his shirt. "What the hell are you doin'?" he asked guardedly.
"Like I said, I'm makin' this easy on you. This is what you came here for isn't it, Jackey-boy?"
"Quit talkin' crazy!"
"I'm not crazy," Oscar laughed as he pulled his undershirt over his head. "I've finally figured out what this thing between you and me was about. It took me a while, but I finally get it. So spare me your sales pitch, and let's get down to business, okay?"
Jack flinched when the undershirt hit him in the face. "Christ, Oscar. Quit actin' like a girl," he said flinging the shirt back at its owner.
"I'm not a girl, damn-it! I'm a man! I'm as good a man as you'll ever find. And don't let my size fool you, Cowboy. I've taken a lot of beatings the past couple of years, and I can easily kick the crap outa you!"
"I know you're a man, Oscar. And I ain't lookin' to fight you."
"Good, cause I ain't lookin' to fight you either." Oscar had closed the distance between them, and for the first time since they'd met as children, he was making Jack squirm. Despite his size, Jack suddenly felt very small.
"Okay, Oscar. You've proved your point. You can back off now."
"I'm not tryin' to prove anything, Cowboy."
"Cut the crap, Oscar. I ain't gonna play this game with you."
"I ain't playin', Cowboy." Oscar placed a rough hand on the back of Jack's neck. "This ain't a game."
The kiss was angry and hard as their teeth clashed together. Jack hesitated for a moment, but he quickly gave in to the familiar feel and taste that was Oscar. A shiver ran through his veins as Oscar's warm breath washed over his throat. His voice came in a low and guttural moan when Oscar stopped and sank his teeth into the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.
Oscar's excitement was evident against his leg, and Jack shifted his hips to feel its full effect against his own awakening excitement. His breath came in ragged gasps as their bodies moved rhythmically against each other. He wanted Oscar more than he'd ever wanted anything. "Chief," he whispered in a slow and shameless breath. "Chief . . . ."
"Damn-it, Cowboy," Oscar sighed letting his arms drop to his sides. He pulled himself from Jack's arms and turned away.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked breathlessly.
"I can't do this, Cowboy. I can't do this just to call your bluff."
"Is that what you're doin'?"
Oscar didn't answer he simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
"I don't think so. I think that you want this as much as I do."
"That's crazy!"
"No. What's crazy is that I listened to Morris and that I didn't trust you. What's crazy is the way you and me have been actin' towards each other."
Oscar shivered from the cold and crossed his arms over his chest for warmth. Jack picked up the discarded shirt and placed it on his shoulders. Oscar pushed him away, but Jack pushed back harder. "Will you stop being such an ass," he said pulling the shivering boy against his body. Jack ran his warm hands across firm muscles of Oscar's arms and back. The feel of Oscar's body always excited and amazed him. He had always looked so weak and frail in Morris' ill-fitting hand-me-down clothing.
The scent of bay rum and cheap hair tonic filled Oscar's senses as he buried his head in Jack's shoulder. He became lost in the sent and the feel of Jack against him, and he hated himself for doing so. When he felt the soft and gentle kiss on his temple, Oscar instinctively moved his mouth to Jack's. He moaned slightly as Jack's tongue passed through his lips, and he surrendered completely when the hand slipped past his waistband.
Jack's hands moved easily over Oscar's body. The smell of the damp and musty basement was washed away by the memory of autumn air, crisp fallen leaves, and butter and jelly sandwiches. Oscar's body was warm and familiar. It was the first time Jack felt whole since their last night together.
End Chapter 7
Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.
A/N: My thanks to those who have reviewed this story. Due to a technical problem I was having with fanfiction, you may not have received a review reply for the last two chapters. Be assured that I did reply and that I am grateful for all of the reviews I receive.