I Cannot Stress How Badly I Think Davey Should’ve Gotten His Own Solo Song

the big question is do i post my one (1) newsies drawing. it's davey btw...

hello again mr pigeon 'pidge' wit i come to u with a writing req ....... no pressure to write obviously!!!!

but consider ur shitface drunk davey w jack (potentially friends too) at a restaurant ... javey aren't together at this point ... but davey is just a little too drunk and ends up pretty much lying with his head on jacks lap ... cue 'jack, I don't wanna go all the way home all by myself ....... can I come home with you?' and jack being the smitten pushover he is of course lets David 'Lightweight' Jacobs sleep in his bed with him ...

davey wakes up has no recollection of what happened and is SO concerned when he wakes up in jacks bed - jack is shirtless - and oh lord he's SO hungover .... anyway ...

consider also jack waking up and saying 'hey beautiful' and Davey short circuiting and jack shrugging and saying 'well u seemed to like it just fine last night'

sorry for the long af ask but this????? in your writing style!!!!! I would shit myself /pos

roman i have had this in my inbox for so long cause i want to write this so goddamn badly but alas uni is killing me, so that's probably not gonna happen for a while. BUT! i do have little snippets for your convenience, because again, this idea was so fun and i wanted to write it so so badly. hope these can tide you over:

“Davey,” Jack says, far more charmed than he should be, because he is pathetic, “maybe you oughta take a break for a bit, you’re-”

“Don’t worry yourself, handsome,” Davey winks, and Jack immediately feels his stomach drop. They have entered Flirty Drunk Davey, which means Jack is going to be of no help for the entire evening. “I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions, and I’m deciding to get sloshed tonight.” He drums his hands on the table as he gets up and shoots Jack a finger-gun as he stumbles only slightly. “Livin’ la vida loca!”

Oh, Jack is a sad man. Jack is a weak, pathetic little man who is in love with someone that just said livin’ la vida loca unironically. Jack is a sad, sad man.

[…]

“And iguanodons,” Davey says quite seriously, with one finger raised like a very wobbly professor,“iguanodons, they walk like – like this…”

He shapes each of his hands into three-toed points and leans forward to plant them on the floor.

“Oh, no-” Jack says quickly, taking his wrists and gently pulling him upright. “No, Davey, that’s okay, don’t – don’t crawl on the floor, pal.”

Davey looks at him with the largest eyes Jack’s ever seen in his life.

“But that’s how iguanodons walk…” He says plaintively, like Jack is a monster who is stifling a very important display of science, and Jack is so pathetically gone for him that he’s almost tempted to say, ‘I’m sorry Davey, by all means crawl around on the floor like a dinosaur, I love you so much.’ Christ, he needs to skip town, go somewhere so repressed he’ll never even think about feelings again without curling up and dying of shame. Britain, maybe. Or wherever the Amish live.

“I know, bud,” Jack soothes, rubbing a hand down his back. “You, uh – you just show me later, okay? We’re going inside now.”

[…]

Right. Right. Breathe. Facts. That’s what Davey needs. Facts.

Fact one: he is currently in Jack’s bed, in Jack’s sweatpants.

Fact two: he cannot remember how he got into either Jack’s bed or Jack’s sweatpants.

Fact three: Jack is making pancakes. Shirtless. With a bit of batter stuck to his collarbone that Davey really wants to lick.

(Fact three, subheading: Davey might still be a little bit drunk)

Conclusion: Davey had literally mind-blowing sex last night while more drunk than a Baltic tide and has thus not only ruined the best friendship he’s ever had, but can’t even reminisce over the memory of it to soothe the wound. Fantastic.

davey talking to jack in French bc he knows it makes jack weak in the ole knees ...... however consider jack rebutting by pulling Davey in real close by the collar and teasing him with the whisper of a kiss ... however consider Davey continuing to say sweet nothings in French and jack folds ... he just cannot beat davey's confidence and put-together ness at all times .... in short confident davey who knows how to get jack wrapped around his little finger and jack who is unaware it's happening until Davey has him (literally? figuratively? you decide) pinned against a wall and he looks up into daveys grey-blue eyes and /god/ that smirk of his and he's weak at the knees but davey has him completely cornered ...... 'i win, Jackie.' 'IT WASNT A COMPETITION?????'

thinking about pre-transition race being a part of the brookyln girlsies. when he tells spot he’s a boy, she just ships him off to jack immediately.

im just saying katherine as a famous if somewhat controversial author, jack as the photographer of a trashy gossip mag trying to get pictures of her and davey as her stressed manager who keeps thwarting him at every turn. discuss.

he taking up the whole dang bed

Jack can't contain his emotions in just his body. he externalises his love, his anguish, his hate, his frustration into any medium that will bend to his will just enough to become his own. His paintings not only depict beautiful landscapes, but also the freedom he wants; the freedom he needs. The music he listens to is filled to overflowing with annotations and marks only jack can hear; the way certain songs get him crying.

Jack only sees himself as a husk- a skeleton of what could have been, if only Jack was given a little more. If only jack had been given a family, he might not have more than half of his personality and traumas displayed on his walls. If jack had been given a family, maybe he would just be better. Maybe it would all be fixed.

Maybe he wouldn't need to move to Santa Fe.

Buttons, who loves cooking for the other Newsies but is extremely self-conscious about his skill and is shaking like a leaf every time they try out his food.

Elmer scarfing down his bowl: Holy shit, Buttons, this is really good!

Albert, already going back for seconds: Seriously, this is delicious.

Buttons, stood in the corner, practically hyperventilating with tears in his eyes: Oh, thanks fellas.

if you could let any newsie say fuck who would it be?