Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 45: A Rude Awakening

Moonlight was streaming through the window, soft and pale, when Les was unexpectedly woken from sleep. He rolled over, bunching his pillow under his head and wondering irritably what it was that had roused him in the middle of the night. It was still completely dark outside, far too early to be getting up for school.

In the bed beside him, David stirred, and Les was about to give his brother a precautionary shove to make sure that he stayed on his side, when the older boy suddenly began speaking.

"We're just a bunch...just a bunch'a angry kids...with no money."

Les groaned quietly. Of course. He now knew what it was that in all likelihood had ruined the possibility of a full night's rest for him: his brother's occasional propensity for sleep-talking.

It wasn't something that happened too often (and David really had no control over it), but when he was especially preoccupied or unusually tired, this inclination tended to assert itself, and Les rolled over in bed again, wearily resigning himself to the fact that he would not be dozing off again anytime soon.

Well, if he was going to be stuck listening to his brother's rambling, he might as well see if he could learn anything interesting. Most of David's nighttime disclosures were rather boring, as the older boy didn't have many things to say that held any fascination for Les, but occasionally there would be a word or a phrase that could be embellished into suitable material for blackmail.

(Contrary to what one would expect, Les had been improving the truth long before he became a newsboy).

So he quickly pulled out a pencil and piece of paper that he kept tucked on the side of the bed for just such occasions and waited patiently. For a few moments, David was silent, and Les was almost on the verge of trying to settle back into bed, when his brother suddenly spoke again.

"I mean...her baking can't be that bad…"

Hmm. Well, that was slightly more interesting than usual.

"What are you talking about?" Les asked aloud. "Whose baking?" His brother generally didn't answer his questions, but it made the situation more amusing to pretend to carry on a conversation.

"It's a big responsibility, Jack. A big...responsibility," David scolded, as though the newsie leader was actually right there in the room.

"What's a big responsibility?" Les questioned. "Or maybe I should ask, 'what isn't a big responsibility to you, David?'" He grinned at his own quip.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," his brother continued warningly. "Could be too dangerous."

Les shook his head in dismay. He didn't know how it was possible for someone to be this boring, even while asleep. There probably wouldn't be any interesting one-liners tonight - David seemed intent on sticking to the subjects of personal wellbeing and liability, things he certainly talked about enough while awake, and Les could have recited most of those lectures in his sleep.

"Besides, it's not really fair..." the older boy declared, sounding suddenly more emphatic than before.

"What's not fair?" Les asked, only half-hoping for an answer by this time.

"...for a girl to have a smile that pretty," David finished.

Hold on, now. Here was something useful.

Les grinned, leaning forward and hoping that his brother would elaborate. "Who are you talking about, David?" he asked. "Who's got a pretty smile?"

"Ambassadors," his brother mumbled, before falling silent.

Les waited for several more moments, but there seemed to be nothing further that the older boy's subconscious determined needed to be said, and after a while, Les heard his breathing settle, slow and even, and he knew that he wasn't likely to get anything further out of David that night.

No matter. He had more than enough to work with.

Eagerly, Les began scribbling away on his piece of paper. He of course had no idea whom his brother was really talking about, but David never remembered what he'd said in his sleep, so he would have no idea that Les was taking a few artistic liberties with the information that had been unwittingly shared. The girl with the pretty smile could have been anyone - a friend from the past, or a new acquaintance, or someone David had walked by on the street - but assuming that the connection was a recent one, it narrowed the field quite a bit.

It had to be Sadie. She was the only girl David had regularly spent time with since moving to Manhattan, and even though there were others he'd been friends with in the past, it seemed unlikely that they'd be on his mind. Les knew that the evidence for this conclusion was flimsy at best, but he was cunning enough to realize that, whether or not it was true, making Sadie the subject of his brother's sleep talking would give Les the most leverage for manipulation and would definitely get a reaction. Besides, the landlord's daughter did have a pretty smile, so maybe the conclusion really wasn't so far-fetched after all.

Now to figure out what he was going to demand from David in return for not divulging this "sensitive" information.

In the past, Les had asked for small favors - the chance to spend an extra half-hour with his friends after school, for a day free of scolding, or for a night with the bed to himself. But he knew that he could bargain for far more with a disclosure like this (as exaggerated as it would be), and he wanted to make the opportunity count.

The printing! That was it. He would blackmail David into letting him go to the printing of The Newsies Banner. The older boy had stated on no uncertain terms that he was not going to take Les along when the newsies snuck into Pulitzer's basement under the cover of darkness, citing (predictably) the potential danger of the scheme, but Les, ever since he'd heard of the plan, was dying to go, and now he had a way of forcing his brother's consent. He would simply have to make sure that he played his cards right, using just enough of David's actual disclosure for the embellished story to sound believable, and letting the older boy's tendency to overthink do the rest.

Perhaps it wasn't a very nice thing to do, Les reflected, a brief feeling of uneasiness giving him pause. David would probably panic, and he really hadn't said anything all that incriminating. But then again, it hadn't been very nice of David to suggest sending Les back to school, either (Les had overheard the conversation between his older brother and their mother, and knew that it was David's initiative that had prompted the temporary return to the classroom while the strike dragged on). It wasn't fair that David got to be out having fun with the newsies while Les was stuck in school; after all, Les was just as much a part of the strike as his brother.

He was sure that David's overprotectiveness was well meant, but it grated, and Les had been waiting for the opportunity to assert his independence, so come to think of it, this little bit of manipulation wasn't really so bad after all. It wasn't an unwarranted attack - he was only evening the score. David had made his life miserable by sending him back to school, so Les would make his life a bit miserable in return.

It wasn't that he disliked his brother - far from it, actually. Les had commiserated with enough of his peers at school to know that older brothers generally were a pain, not just his particular older brother, and in fact, David was probably a pretty mild case - Les would never forget the time he'd innocently asked one of his friends about a rather large bruise on his arm, and the boy had confided that he'd gotten the mark from his older brother, who had hit him for accidentally breaking one of his belongings. (Les had given David a hug that night before they'd gone to bed, and had endeavored for the rest of the week to be on his best behavior, though he'd never told the older boy why).

But they were just so different. Les couldn't understand his brother's insistence on adhering so strictly to the rules, or his relentless drive to always be doing something meaningful. The world didn't seem that black and white to Les, and life didn't seem that serious, so they clashed on a regular basis, and Les occasionally chafed under David's expectations and his example, though he knew that the older boy tried very hard not to let that dynamic affect their relationship. Their parents, thankfully, rarely admonished Les to be more like his deliberate, responsible older brother, but the comparison was there despite the fact that neither boy was comfortable with it.

Well, it could be worse, Les thought. At least there were some good things about having David as a brother. He was fair and patient and accommodating and usually let Les have the last word (though he was completely immovable on the rare occasions when he put his foot down). And the fact that he could be occasionally exploited in cases like these was just another benefit of his earnest nature, a nature that the more cunning Les did not share.

The possibility of his uptight older brother fancying someone, especially a girl like Sadie (who seemed to be carefree and fun and everything David wasn't), amused and intrigued Les. He knew that what he'd overheard was by no means a confession of interest, but the possibility was there, and he was hopeful that further opportunities to capitalize on the situation would present themselves. If they did, there was no telling what kinds of favors or permissions he'd be able to obtain.

Satisfied with the night's revelation, Les carefully tucked his piece of paper and pencil back into their spot on the side of the bed and settled down, eager for the morning to arrive so that he could put his plan into motion.

David may have been the smart one in the family, but Les was far more clever...and sometimes it was better to be clever than smart.


To say that the morning started off poorly for Davey would have been an understatement. He'd overslept, woken up feeling groggy, and before even getting out of bed had been given the unhappy news that he'd divulged some rather embarrassing information about Sadie while sleep-talking. Les had used this information to his advantage, blackmailing Davey into allowing him to go along with the newsies that night in exchange for his silence, and even insisting on a spit-shake in order to seal the deal.

It had all been rather too much for an already-inauspicious morning.

After this rude awakening, Davey had reluctantly eaten breakfast and had gotten ready for the day before dutifully (if a bit irritably) walking Les to school. They'd run into the Becker sisters on their way there, and though Les had kept his word and hadn't said anything to either one of them, their meeting had been stilted and awkward, and Davey had found himself relieved to be heading towards the lodging house, alone with his thoughts after parting ways with the rest of the group at the schoolhouse.

He'd probably given in a little too quickly to Les' demands, he reflected. There was no way of verifying that what the younger boy claimed Davey had said was true, and it was hard not to suspect over-dramatization playing a part whenever Les was involved...but still, there was no way of disproving Les' assertions, either, and if there was one thing that terrified Davey, it was the possibility of Sadie finding out about the ridiculous things he'd said about her, especially at the hands of his exaggerative little brother.

He'd eventually convinced Les to show him the paper where the younger boy had written down what he'd overheard, and the contents of that document had been enough to make Davey completely embarrassed and ready to capitulate to almost any demands proposed. Perhaps it made him a poor excuse for an older brother that he was willing to risk Les' safety just to keep his own pride intact, but the situation facing him if he refused to cooperate wasn't one that he was willing to undergo.

Davey once again chided himself for giving in to his brother's manipulation (and for not cross-examining him more closely), but there really wasn't anything he could do about it now. He'd been cornered into letting Les come that night, so now he would need to think of a reasonable (and truthful) explanation to give their mother before Les came home from school later that afternoon.

He fervently hoped that the younger boy was still holding up his end of the bargain.

Davey rubbed the back of his neck unhappily. Assuming that he really had said those things, he had another problem on his hands. He probably ought to do some reading on the science of sleep-talking (if indeed such research existed). Was it truly an expression of one's subconscious thoughts, a kind of unfiltered reflection of the mind and heart when they weren't being checked by the restraints of propriety and expectation? Or was it just an unrelated process that had no rational bearing whatsoever?

He hoped it was the latter. He had no reason to be thinking those kinds of things about Sadie. He wasn't sweet on her (as Les claimed); he wasn't even sure what to think about her, especially after their last conversation on the way to the park. Perhaps he'd had some occasionally confusing feelings, but those were behind him now, and even those thoughts had been nothing like what he'd read on Les' paper.

The one point he was willing to grudgingly concede had crossed his mind before was the admission that Sadie had a pretty smile. In fact, he'd noticed it the first time they'd met, but at that moment, he'd been so off-put by her carelessness and her amusement at his expense that it hadn't made an impression on him...though later it had been a different story.

Regardless, he wouldn't have said those other things about her.

Davey shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Les had to be making it up. That was the only possible explanation. If for some reason the truth - not the truth; rather, the story - got out, he could deny it in good conscience and laugh it off. Sadie had commented often enough in the past about younger siblings and their antics where Davey knew that if he told her Les was twisting the facts, she'd believe him. There was nothing to be worried about. There was no way Sadie would take such outlandish remarks seriously, even if she was to find out about them. In fact, she'd probably laugh them off herself, even without his denial of their validity. They were too ridiculous to be true. He could put the unfortunate incident aside.

It was time to focus on the strike.

The last few days since the rally had been so full of activity and plans and unexpected conversations that Davey had started to feel the delayed fatigue catching up to him. He knew that he'd been running on a potent (but ultimately unsustainable) combination of excitement and stress ever since becoming a newsboy, and that the sudden dropoff in stamina was inevitable, but he was planning to ride the rush for as long as he could. Now was not the time for slacking off. He could recover later when things settled down.

It was a slightly ironic thought. When he'd first come to Manhattan, he'd been struggling with even the smallest change to his routine, unsettled by the need to adjust to a new school and a new neighborhood, and trying to figure out how to fit in, despite the fact that he'd never felt like he'd accomplished that anywhere his family had lived in the past. His greatest wish had been for stability and for a predictable schedule, and his greatest concerns had been trying to make friends at school and making sure that Les didn't get himself killed doing...whatever ridiculous things Les always insisted on doing.

And then the accident had come and turned everything upside down.

Suddenly, making friends at school and learning the layout of a new neighborhood were irrelevant (though Les' wellbeing remained a concern). Instead, Davey's thoughts had become consumed with how he was going to bring in enough money to pay the rent and to keep his family from going hungry. He'd felt overwhelmed by the sudden and heavy responsibility and had, above all, feared his inability to do the job, but he'd pushed forward because giving up was the only other option.

And then, hot on the heels of the accident, came the strike. And suddenly, things had changed again. The objective became not simply day-to-day survival (though the reality of that never left) but instead impacting the very injustices that made that objective nearly impossible for some in the most dire of circumstances. And suddenly, Davey wasn't only thinking about his own family, but about the wellbeing of a group of boys whom he'd only met a few days prior. And suddenly he wasn't just David Jacobs, the quiet new kid who kept his head down and tried his hardest not to make it too obvious that he really had no clue what he was doing. Suddenly, someone was looking to him for the answers, depending on his leadership, pushing him to share the thoughts that were always on his mind but rarely spoken aloud.

He'd been the new kid at the circulation gate, of course - but somehow the newsies had known that there was more to him than that. The fact that they - Jack and Race in particular - had drawn out aspects of Davey that he himself hadn't even known were there was astonishing, especially considering the fact that it all had happened in such a relatively short (if intense) span of time.

He didn't even feel like he was the same boy who had moved to Manhattan less than two months ago. Where was the David who never wanted to lead anything, who balked at the idea of speaking in front of crowds, who was too reserved to make friends easily, whose thoughts always got mixed up somewhere between his mind and his mouth?

Well, he was definitely still alive and kicking, Davey thought ruefully, remembering the protest that he'd put up before agreeing to speak at the rally and some of his more recent failures to adequately communicate. But something else was there, too. He felt more sure of himself, more confident, and a little less afraid to speak his mind. He'd always had big ideas and strong convictions, but he'd rarely been forced to give voice to them until now. Something about expressing them felt right, as if a part of him that had always been bottled up was finally being released, and with that came a sense of freedom and fulfillment that Davey had never felt before in his life.

The fact that he was doing this alongside others dedicated to the same cause only deepened his satisfaction. And as he thought more about the newsies and what their camaraderie had come to mean to him, he realized that maybe what he'd been looking for all this time wasn't simply a stable routine or an environment free of disruption. In fact, both of those things had been relatively absent ever since the strike began. Perhaps what he'd really been looking for was a place to belong, a place where he could both share and listen to ideas (and where those ideas mattered), a place where friendship didn't have to be based on common life circumstances or the same socio-economic status, but could develop and deepen from the pursuit of a common goal.

It was rather striking to think that perhaps he'd found what he'd been looking for amongst the newsies. He never would have guessed that the kinds of boys he'd passed countless times on the streets (barely registering their presence other than to occasionally get annoyed at their aggressive selling techniques), would eventually come to be the kinds of people he considered his close friends.

Well, maybe it was a bit too soon to be going there - he really had only known them for a few weeks, and though their comradeship had certainly been accelerated by the high-stakes situation they'd found themselves fighting through together, there was no telling what things would look like once the strike was over. The common ground that they shared was bound up in the events of the last several weeks, and what Davey had told Race was true: any expertise he'd been able to lend to his role would end once the strike did. He knew that he would still have a place with the newsies even when he was no longer their de-facto co-leader and sometimes-spokesman, but he wondered if their differences - which had been so apparent that very first day at the circulation gate - would once again come to the forefront and would affect his ability to ever truly be one of them.

Davey shook off the melancholy thought. The feeling of being different and of never really fitting in wasn't anything new to him. He'd concluded several years ago that it was a combination of his naturally reticent temperament and having moved so much that caused this sentiment to surface often, but its familiarity didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He'd just have to take things one day at a time. Maybe he was overthinking it, and the easy camaraderie that he'd enjoyed with the newsies would continue even after the strike was over. He had to give it a chance. If he'd been realizing lately that other people weren't all he'd thought they were at first glance, he had to apply that epiphany to himself as well.

Maybe it was time to stop defining himself so strictly by who he'd been in the past.

Davey continued walking, lost in his thoughts, and before he knew it, he had reached the lodging house and was standing on the threshold of the door that he'd lately been going in and out of almost as regularly as he'd entered and exited his own family's apartment.

He'd arrived at his home away from home…and there were brothers inside who were waiting for him.

After only a brief moment of hesitation, Davey pushed open the door and stepped inside.


A/N: The actual conversation between Davey and Les regarding Davey's sleep talking can be found in Les' chapter of Kings and Kingdoms (which was written before I'd even started this story) if you're interested in knowing how that went down and (incidentally) what sparked the idea for the romance subplot of Something Worth Winning. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter!