Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

Papes | Jack Kelly

THANK YOU FOR 30K

Summary: You buy a paper from the same newsie every day. One day, he's gone.

QOTP: What's your favorite song from Newsies?

Word Count: 655

Ever since you started your new job, you've been passing the same newsie everyday on your way to work. And everyday, you buy a paper from him.

"Papes! Getcha papes here! News on the latest government scandal!" the newsie shouts, smirking when he says the last part.

You walk up to him. "I'll take a paper."

He smiles; it's mischievous, like he knows something you don't. And yet, it's also genuine. "That'll be a penny, sweetheart."

You hand him the penny and he gives you the paper. Glancing at the headline, you realize there's no government scandal...

////

The next day, he's shouting about a kidnapping. You go to buy another paper. "Thank you," he says, that same smile on his face.

The day after, he's talking about a murder. You buy another paper. He stops you, his face softening a little. "Hey, you got a dog or somethin'? You gotta know that none of those headlines are real, right? I lie to sell papes."

"I know," you reply. You take the paper anyway.

The day after that, a financial crisis. You buy a paper. He hesitates before handing it to you, then leans closer and whispers. "Ya know, it's the same headline from yesterday."

"I don't care," you reply, taking the paper.

As you walk away, he can't help but wonder...

////

One day, he's not there. Your spirits drop.

If you're honest, you looked forward to seeing him everyday. Sure, he was dirty, but he was cute. And... well, you had your reasons...

Meanwhile, Jack Kelly is painting a backdrop for Medda Larkin and wondering about you. Why you buy a paper everyday, what you're going to do now about whatever it is you use those papers for; no one is selling papers on the street.

////

The next day, you take a different route to see if he moved spots. You see him walking with another newsie with a crutches. Stopping, you debate whether to walk over and talk to him, ask him why he wasn't in his usual spot. As you're about to decide against it and continue walking, he looks over at you.

"Hey!" he shouts, jogging over.

You meet him halfway. "Hi."

"Hi."

He smiles that smile, though it's less mischievous. More... warm. Bright. You smile back. It's silent for a while - though it's not awkward - and then he speaks. "You... you wanna, like, sit down or somethin'?"

"Yeah," you reply, nodding. You both sit on a bench and try to figure out what to talk about. "So, where've you been?" you ask quietly.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Us newsies are goin' on strike."

"Oh."

"Yeah... They've been treatin' us bad, I guess. We're gettin' sick of it."

"Well, then I support you 100%."

"Thanks."

It's silent again for a few minutes.

"You know," he says, "it was nice - I mean, you buyin' a pape everyday; I had one sale guaranteed, ya know? Just one I didn't have to worry about." You only hum in response, looking down at your shoes. He continues. "Why did you buy a pape from me everyday?" You shrug, not looking at him. After a minute or so, he starts laughing. You blush. "Well," he says, "I am flattered."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious! I am!"

You look over at him. "It wasn't just that. I figured you had it hard - I didn't know how hard, but..."

"Thanks," he says, smiling at you. You smile back at him, still lightly blushing. There's more comfortable silence before you finally ask the age-old question.

"What's your name?"

"Jack Kelly," he replies, holding out his hand.

You shake it. "Y/N Y/L/N."

"Well, Y/N Y/L/N, I think you're pretty cute, too."