Carrying the Banner || Newsies One-shots

In Your Eyes...

yes yes more jackcrutchie i cant get enough of them
anyways
uh
yes

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It was a week after the Newsies strike, and the kids were all feeling great. They'd been given fair pay and finally were being treated as equals...more or less.

Crutchie kept stealing looks at Jack as they sold their papers that day, and by the end of the day, Jack was getting suspicious.

"'Ey, kid, what's goin' on wit' ya?" Jack asked, leaning against the wall of a building as he counted his coins. "You been lookin' at me funny all day."

Crutchie, who had been adjusting his hat, stopped mid-way and looked up at him. "Oh, uh, I didn't think you was watchin'. Didn't think you'd see me." His hat was in his hand, and his sandy hair was matted, stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps. The day had been especially hot, and he was clearly ready to find somewhere cooler.

Jack chuckled, walking over and gently brushing the hair on Crutchie's forehead to the side. "Didn't think I'd notice, huh? Well, you thought wrong. I'm Jack Kelly, I see an' know everything." He smirked at him, grabbing Crutchie's hat and gently putting it back on the boy's head so that it was facing forward.

Charles huffed quietly, swiveling his hat backwards like it usually was. "Damn you, Kelly," he teased, grinning at him. "Nothin' gets past ya, huh? Not even a couple o' glances I make just ta see your eyes?"

"Ah, so he likes my eyes, hm?" Jack replied with a slight pink tinting his cheeks. "And may I ask why you 'ave such an interest in my eyes?"

The injured boy smirked back. "No. No ya can't." With that, he turned around, limping off towards the lodging house.

Jack spent the next few days trying to coax an answer out of Crutchie, but he met that same wall of resistance every time. Finally, after three days of this, he sighed dramatically, laying back on the roof and staring up at the stars.

"You, Crutchie Morris, are a lil devil, ya know that?" Jack chuckled softly, looking over to where the boy was sitting. "Why won't you tell me?"

This time, Crutchie took his time forming an answer. When he finally replied, his voice was soft and tentative, trying out the words.

"I like your eyes because they remind me of home. That you're always gonna be there at the end of the day. They give me a reason to keep tryin' to get up and sell those papers. Otherwise, I'd be here, letting myself starve. You're the reason I keep goin' every day. That's why I like your eyes."

The two boys were silent for a moment. Jack broke the silence first. "So, you didn't tell me all of this why?"

Crutchie stared at him, dumbfounded. "You- I tell ya all o' that, and ya wanna know why I ain't tell you this for the last few days? You're kiddin' me, right?"

The former strike leader flushed and rolled his eyes. "I- well...I dunno, whaddya want me to say? You can't jus' drop somethin' like that on me and expect me to roll with it." He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek and dropping his gaze to the floor guiltily. "'m sorry, Charlie." 

The boy in question froze and narrowed his eyes, frowning a bit. "Why'd ya call me that? You never call me Charlie, unless you're tryna make a point or somethin'."

"Am I not allowed to appreciate how wonderful ya real name sounds?" Jack joked, his smirk returning. "Maybe I just like ya name, is all."

Face burning and eyes starting to drip, Crutchie laid next to Jack, looking over at him. "Fo' sure?"

"Fo' sure."