Idea from @dragonsrrad on Tumblr!

***

Davey hadn't exactly been sure how he felt about Jack the first day he met him. One could call many different events having been their "first-time-meeting".
When Jack had run into him while being chased by the Delancys.
When Davey first stepped foot into the world that was being a Newsie, receiving all sorts of gawky stares from boys who were all dressed in outfits that weren't as pressed or clean as his.
Or, perhaps, when Jack had bought Davey extra papers, and for the first time, Davey decided to deliberately make eye-contact with the other boy.

Davey recalled every occurrence, but he considered the last one to be the first time he truly met Jack, the first time he really noticed him. He was almost caught off guard, unsure if he should reject or accept the stranger's kindness, or if he should take it as kindness at all to begin with. His father had taught him to be kind to others, but to also have pride's in one's self, resulting in an awkward denial of the papers, that his younger brother had quickly thwarted when becoming sales partners with Jack.

Davey wasn't sure how he should feel about the wanna-be-cowboy, but he sure knew how he did feel.
Skeptical, seemed to be the most obvious first answer, but keen was a one that rooted deeper within him.
There was something about the way the other boy delivered the way his words, his movements, his smiles, that would sometimes be pointed at Davey in particular.
And by the end of the day, Davey knew he was fond of Jack, of the way he could get out of trouble while still looking out for those around him, his lack of manners that he tried to desperately to make up for in quiet apologies, apologies that weren't made up in the word sorry, but in more looks and smiles that could take a moment, or a century, to decode.
Davey was certain he could gladly look at Jack's face for a century if it meant knowing how the other felt all the time.
Jack was expressive but not verbally, any verbal expression he had were words that he had picked up from others, usually from David. But through art, there was no telling what Jack could and would say. His art was so influential and raw that Davey couldn't help but admire it, which is exactly what he was doing now.

Around half of the Newsies were currently inside Medda's theatre, having not been able to make it from the last show they'd been watching to the lodging house before the county went on an affective lock-down.
Sickness had been ravishing the town for weeks, but matters to contain it had only been discussed until now.
Davey had begun to momentarily freak out when he heard the news about how they would be forcefully kept within the theatre.
Policemen on horses trotted around tirelessly outside, and David knew his parents would be more upset if he and Les tried to make it home illegally than if they just stayed out. Regardless, this hadn't help Davey to stay calm much.

The other newsies hadn't been so affected, Jack hadn't been there when the announcement was made, too busy back stage painting to be bothered all that much, while the others simply took the news with slight dismay to the fact that they wouldn't be making money selling papes, which was quickly silenced by Medda's offer to feed and house the boys seeing as they couldn't leave.
She'd sent a few of them up into the rafters to look for anything that could he used as a bed, seeing as how she wasn't going to make them sleep on the floor. They'd sleep on the stage instead.
Davey had begun to hyperventilate at the news that they would be required to stay here. Sarah was at home with his mother and father no doubt, meaning that they were all most likely safe. That helped him a bit. He'd seen Les no more than a second ago before he had excitedly scrambled off with the other newsies, chanting about a sleepover. It helped Davey to know his kid brother wasn't as phased by this as he was. But even with all of this combined, thw curly-haired boy couldn't help but focus on the beat of his heart, quick and anxious, thundering from his chest to his toes.
He wasn't going to see his parents for...how long had Medda said? Two weeks they were to shelter-in-place?
This reminder only made Davey feel sicker as he stumbled to the edge of the stage, leaning all his weight on it to relieve some stress from his body. His parents wouldn't receive the money he'd made today- nor any of the money he would have made this week.
Would they have enough food?
Could they afford the bills?
What about the water bills? They could last longe without food than without water-
Would they be allowed to leave to get water if they needed it desperately?
Probably- but what if they had to prove it and someone had to come inside and then that person gave the virus to his family and they couldn't afford the medicine because Davey himself was here with all the money. It would be his fault, no doubt. Even if the back of his mind told him that it was the Virus and not him, it was the front of his mind that Davey was listening to.
He'd have to be stuck with boys who looked like they hadn't showered in- well, ever. Davey knee they did, despite getting just as much dirt on them, if not more, than they had when they started the day. While their hygiene was questionable, Davey at least knew that it existed, having walked into the lodging house to more than a few boys taking bathes in ice cold water once or twice. The sight had appalled him, but they didn't seem to bothered, living with tons of other boys around them, they were used to the lack of personal space.
A realization seemed to drop into the pit of Davey's stomach.
He wouldn't have personal space now, would he?
Davey clutched at his arms and held them tight to his chest. Don't presume wrong, Davey was all for physical affection, but it varied. Only with particular people. Les was basically attached to his knees when he got bored and Sarah never stopped fixing his hair. But Davey wasn't very used to physical contact outside of his family. Well, them and Jack.
Jack was a wonder to Davey in the way that he couldn't wrap his head around the boy. The dirty-blonde haired boy had practically forced himself into Davey's life, by word and by action. Constantly, Jack's arm would find a way over Davey's shoulder while they were selling. Later in the evenings when only the desperate and the youth were out on the town, Jack would place an arm around Davey's hips.

The curly-haired brunette wasn't quite sure what to think about it, all he knew is that Jack's hand felt different than any hand he had touched before.
Not just in physical texture, rough with calluses from endless work since he'd been old enough to, but also in the feeling of it on Davey's shoulders, hips, or even his own hand on the occasion that Jack might clasp it, throwing their held hands together in the air as a sign of victory. It was warm, not just Jack's hand, but the area that it touched. Warm and pleasant, careful and intentional, almost wary of how Davey would react to its placement.
And this thought, is what finally seemed to calm Davey's mind.
He wasn't sure where his friend had run off too, and that suddenly seemed to become the most important thing to him at the moment.
Looking around the near empty theatre, other than a sleeping Romeo who leaned against an also sleeping Specs, the boys' faces having gentle, content smiles, probably from the fact that they could finally relax, what with knowing they'd be well taken care of without having to go outside to work.
It made Davey smile slightly from where he stood. Ah, to find bliss in not having to worry- wish I could relate.
Davey felt as though he always had someone to look after, or to look for- and that person, at the moment, was one Jack Kelly. And he had a good idea of where the boy was. Turning on his heel, and nearly running into the side of the stage before aiming for the stairs that led up to it on either side, Davey made his way to the wings, sidestepping down along the solid concrete wall that made up the back of the stage, using it to guide himself to the backstage door as all the lights were currently off in the wings, due to all present people being up in the props room and rafters.
Davey turned the doorknob and was greeted by pleasantly warm light as he entered the large room behind the stage, it being almost completely silent, what with the walls being made out of concrete, disturbed only by the occasional swish of a brush and slosh of water.
Davey turned his head to the left of the room, looking down from the wooden-plank floors and along it until his eyes glanced up at Jack, who was currently sitting in the ground in a white undershirt and paint-stained black pants, looking a bit big on him, unlike the undershirt, which cling to his body, showing the curve of his spine that looked as though it might be in pain from how long it had spent in that position as Jack focused in on the half-painted canvas before him, squinting with his tongue slightly blepped out.
Drawn to his face, Davey took notice of his red bandana hung over his left shoulder, covered in paint much like his face and arms.
Davey was able to get a few more moments of...studying.. before Jack seemed to register him and look up, presuming a sheepish smile as he tried and failed to hide his work, unable to from the size of the canvas, considering he was painting a backdrop, and the fact that the paint was wet, meaning his quick attempt to try and cover it with his body, failed when he realized a moment before he nearly touched it, that the paint was wet. He now sat up and stretched with an expression that gave away the fact that yes, he had been in that position for quite some time.

"Heya there, Dave." Jack grinned as he swung his torso to the left and then to the right, popping it as he did so.

"Is that Santa Fe?" Davey approached the other slowly, bending down beside him and squinting at the warm-colored canvas that looked like mountains of clay had been painted onto it.

"Good eye you got there, Davey- I'm not sure." The taller boy cocked his head and seemed to examine the painting for himself before nodding, "I think it is. I wasn't really paying no attention to what it was that I was paintin', just that it's felt right."

"Mm, I'm not surprised." Davey sighed in amusement with a nod.

"So glad I'm typical." Jack snorted as he got to his feet and stretched some more.

Davey felt his cheeks heat up as he looked over Jack's torso. The boy was in incredible shape, from years of hauling newspapers around from every corner of town. God, Davey hoped the other didn't lose that perfection during their two weeks inside.

"Somethin' on me shirt?" Jack cocked an eyebrow at Davey, who hadn't noticed that Jack was now looking at him.

This made the light haired boy blush more and shake his head, "No- no, just thinking."

"Aw, 'bout me?" Jack cooed teasingly as he took a few steps forward to stand before Davey with a cocky grin.

When am I not? Well, maybe when he was worrying- but that was quite often as well so maybe then too-

Davey would have had to have been an idiot to not realize his feelings for Jack were more than platonic, but he'd have to be an even bigger idiot to ever voice that, "Just thinking about the time inside is all."

"Time inside? What's that supposed to mean?" Jack chuckled as he sidestepped a few inches to lean against the side of the cement wall that faced the backstage room.

Davey lifted his eyebrows in surprise as he strode over to lean against a patch of wall a few feet up from Jack, "Didn't you hear about the lockdown?"

"What lockdown?" Jack frowned.

"We're stuck in here for two weeks so the virus can be contained." Davey frowned at the thought of it.

"You're kidding!" Jack sat up straighter with lifted eyebrows.

"Wish I was." Davey scratched at his arm anxiously.

"But what about the boys back at the lodge?" Jack fretted.

"They'll be fine there I'm sure." Davey reassured.

"And your family?" The so-called dime-novel-cowboy crossed his arms over his chest in concern.

"A-At home." Davey's scratching on his arm got faster and with more force.

"Sarah's with them?" Jack asked quietly.

Davey's nails dug into his arm at the comment, "Yeah." He responded quietly.
Jack and Sarah had gone their separate ways nearly a season ago, but their friendship had lingered, much to Davey's selfish dislike. He didn't favor the fact that Sarah constantly talked about Jack as though they were still together.
And even though Davey knew almost certainly that they weren't, he wasn't exactly in control of his jealousy.

"That's good." Jack nodded in subtle relief.

Davey knew it wasn't fair to Jack nor his sister that he was jealous. They were both simply living out their lives with their own story, and Davey was doing so as well. He just couldn't help but think that his story would be a lot better with Jack by his side in a more than friendly manor.
Davey's arm was getting redder as he scratched it harder, growing more nervous.

"So we can't leave here at all?" Jack snapped Davey out of his thoughts.

The shorter boy shook his head, "No. Law enforcement is patrolling the whole city. You can only leave for necessities. His arm was bright red now and-

"Stop doing that." Jack made eye-contact with Davey.

Davey's nervous antics slowed for a moment as he looked at Jack, "Do what?"

"That-" Jack reached forward and put his hand on top of the hand that scratched at Davey's arm, pulling it into his own while he looked over the blue-eyed boy's arm, "Geez, Dave. You's gotta' find a betta outlet than that for yours nervous energy."

Davey shrugged as his mind eased, feeling Jack's hand on his own, "Maybe."

"Here, how about yous try painting a bit." The boy led Davey over to the canvas, picking up a paintbrush from his cup of paint water and flicking it to the side to dry it before handing it to Davey, "Draw somethin'."

"It would ruin the painting though." Davey reasoned with a frown.

"Art is art." Jack shrugged, "It'll be nice to have a little bit of Dave on it."

Davey smiled at his friend's words. Jack always seemed to know exactly what to say to him. But he wasn't sure how affective him painting would be, "I just- any color?"

"Well-" Jack began before shaking his head, "Any color."

Dave thought about it for a moment and reached for the paints.

***