Strikes and Ladders

Chapter Eight: Running and Realisation

"Shit! Sorry Daves, we gotta go." Jack grabs Davey's hand and starts running, dragging the other boy along with him. He struggles to match pace, but the last few weeks of practice help him keep up now that there's about three cops chasing them.

"I can't keep this up for long Jackie, where are we heading?" He manages to pant, burn building up in his thighs and calves.

Jack grimaces. "If we can make it to the bridge, they'll stop. Brooklyn cops won't go into Manhattan just to chase a couple kids. You can do it, c'mon."

If Jack says he can, he can. If Jack says it, he believes it. Despite the entourage behind them, Davey can't help himself from questioning that for just a second. But then Jack takes a sharp turn down an alley and all he can think about is running, running, running.

It seems like an eternity before they can see the bridge, so close yet so far, Jack's hand still around his wrist. He can feel himself about to slow down, something he can't afford with those assholes on their tail. But then they reach the threshold, are on the Brooklyn bridge, and they keep running but the cops don't. They stop short and glare at their backs as the kids weave through and get lost in the bridge's crowd. Jack slows down and Davey does too, but they don't stop moving until they're all the way across. This is where Jack pulls him down an alley, one with basically no view from the street, and collapses against him, laughing.

He can't help himself, so Davey cracks up too. They end up on the ground, probably scaring the city-goers, but not caring in the slightest. Jack's hat falls off when he buries his head in Davey's chest, shoulders shaking. It takes a while for them to calm down, because they keep managing to quiet down but then they make eye contact before breaking into laughter once again. After about ten minutes of this, Davey's forehead is pressed against Jack's shoulder and they are both panting heavily, despite having recovered from the running a while ago.

"When I said wow me, I meant like, flowers or something. Not whatever the hell that was." Davey is complaining, but there's a grin on his face. He lifts his head and sees his companion grinning up at the sky as well.

"Your fault. You never specified what you wanted. I think gettin' chased by the cops while I'm tryin' to go on a date with a cute boy is the height of entertainment." Another charming grin spreads across his face. Are all his grins charming, or does Davey just like his face?

"Sure, Jack. It's my fault that we did something illegal and got chased all the way back to Manhattan. I said that we'd get into trouble, didn't I?"

He's given a shrug and a completely unapologetic face. "You did. But I said that it'd be fun."

Against his better judgement, Davey shrugs too. "...Fine. I guess it was fine."

'Fine?! Oh come on Daves, cut me some slack. You met some horses, we ran from the cops, and now you're all cuddled up to my side, so I'd say it went a little better than fine." Almost as if he is reading Davey's mind, Jack puts an arm around his waist, pulling him closer when he is about to squirm away.

Davey shrugs, a smirk crossing his face. "Oh you know," he says, faux nonchalant, "I've had better dates."

Jack catches on. "Oh bullshit."

"Hey, language. I can't believe you'd cuss in front of a date as classy as me." This is good. They're back on level ground, teasing back and forth like they could during the strike, before Jack scabbed. They're just two boys, two best friends on the edge of something so much more.

"Classy, mhm. Tell that to Pulitzer. Bet he and all those other guys think you're real classy."

"Classier than you."

"That's like bein' prettier than a pig, and you know it, Daves."

"Are you calling me a pig?"

"Never, you're too good-lookin'. Any of the other guys? Yeah, theys as pig as they come."
A pause, then Davey speaks again, a bit quieter this time. "Did you think that when you dated half of them?"

Jack sighs heavily and leans harder against the wall. He takes his arm back from where it has been resting around Davey's waist and they both miss the point of contact. "Davey..."

"Look, I know it's none of my business who you dated before me..."

"But you're scared. I get it."

"I don't... I don't want to be one of your exes."

"Look, Dave. I can't promise that we won't break up eventually, but...I really like you. I really like you. You're smart, funny, and drop dead gorgeous. You're all the things I ain't and I think you balance me out. Make me think twice before I do somethin' dumb. I can't promise we won't break up, so I get it if you don't wanna try...but I think you might regret it."

Davey turns this over in his head a few times. As an anxious person by nature, he isn't usually one for risks. But there is something about Jack that overrides this instinct. Something that leads him to do things like the strike, or even agreeing to go on this date. "Let's go back to the lodging house. We can talk in the penthouse. I...I need to think."

Jack smiles fondly and stands up, an arm outstretched. "When dontcha?"

There's an eye roll in there, but Davey takes the hand. They stand there for a bit longer than necessary, staring into each other's eyes before he slowly lets go and turns back toward the street.