JackCrutchie Oneshots

Fighting

It was a truly terrible thing.

This type of thing did not happen often. One might say fighting was healthy on occasion, healthy to even happen at all; all couples fight, right? It could not have just been them.

When Jack was angry, it was a dry anger. It was hot and quick-witted. He often spoke harsh words he did never quite mean. Jack wasn't exactly a screaming type, his voice was more fire-red intensity with a low growl that lurked in the back of his throat.

When Crutchie was angry, this growl of Jack's did not scare him at all. His anger was more wet. It was cold and tear-filled, he often spoke words of apology around words he, too, often did not mean. Crutchie yelled until his throat burned, an attempt to match the intensity he saw in Jack.

It was a few months after the newsboy strike. Winter was cold, attitudes colder; selling papers during the winter was never any boys favorite. It was harder to get up in the mornings.

But, there was always one thing the boys could look forward to on weekend nights; Medda's shows.

"C'mon Crutchie, baby, we're gonna be late." Jack felt exhausted, wanting so badly to just go to the theatre and let the weeks worries wash away.

"I told you, I'm not comfortable going right now. I just want to stay in tonight." Crutchie wasn't sure why but he already felt tears threatening to spill out of his water line.

"It's Davids birthday (sue me for using David's birthday as a plot point twice), he's been excited about this for weeks." Jack attempted to convince Crutchie, pacing on the rooftop.

"I know!" Crutchie's lip was quivering now. "You just don't understand."

"Maybe I would if you would just tell me what wrong!" Jack's voice rose slightly, confused and not sure what to do.

"Nothing is wrong with me not wanting to go tonight, Jack!"

"You were telling me how excited you were to see Medda just this morning!" Jack spoke, confused and feeling more upset as this conversation went on.

"Yeah, well!" Crutchie bit his lip hard. "I changed my mind."

"At the last minute."

"Yes."

"Is it your leg? Is your leg bothering you?" Jack asked, trying to make sense of Crutchie.

"No!" Crutchie sighed, knowing how awful he was for lying to Jack.

"Then what is it? I can't just drop everything for you if you can't tell me what's wrong." Jack spoke harshly.

Crutchie was hurt, tears welling up. "I'm not asking you to drop everything! Sorry it's such a chore to care for five minutes-"

"Oh, I don't care?" Jack almost laughed.

Crutchie turned away from Jack. "It sure doesn't seem like it."

"What am I supposed to do? I'm trying to ask you what's wrong!"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

Jack took a step back, shaking his head and taking a breath. "I know you don't but it wouldn't nice to not have to guess what's wrong with you."

Crutchie didn't respond for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed. That feeling was overcome by the true want to not leave the comfort he found in the newsboy lodge. The overwhelming feeling of his leg took precedence, making his head ache and heart pound. "I really would like you to stay here with me tonight."

"I can't." Jack answered simply, sighing when he saw the heartbroken look on Crutchie's face. "Baby, he's my best friend-"