Jack felt like his heart was going to give out the moment that he gave Davey the paint brush. While he cared for his friend immensely, he also tenderly cared for the piece of art that had taken him three hours thus far. At the very least, he could paint over Davey's art if need be...but would that hurt the other's feelings? What about his own feelings?
He wanted Davey to feel better is what Jack was feeling. He knew how easily the boy tended to stress over things, and painting was an outlet for him, so why wouldn't it work for Davey? Nothing was more relaxing than-

"Darn it!" Davey swore as his elbow knocked over a red paint can, sending paint flooding onto the floor.

Jack panicked and pushed the canvas so it slid away from the both of them- and the paint that was currently poking into the ground.

"I'm sorry, Jack, let me help clean it-" Davey sighed as he got to his feet to look for cleaning supplies.

"Hey, don't worry about it- the painting his safe and- oh-" Jack winced slightly before letting out a quiet snicker.

"What? What happened?" Davey looked at the other with concern and confusion.

"You've got a bit of-" Jack chuckled as he pointed to a large red smear on Davey's left pant leg.

"Oh no-" Davey looked horrified down at his leg, "M-My dad is going to kill me- these are- these are good pants-"

"Why'd your wear them to sell papes then?" Jack cocked an eyebrow.

"I wore them to the show, Jack." Davey shot a quick glare.

Jack lifted his hands up in defense before paying closer attention to Davey's outfit. The boy was indeed dressed up. He had been wearing caramel-colored pants and a white dress-shirt.

"Well, you can't paint without the chance of spilling some-" Jack chuckled softly as he grabbed his bandana from off his shoulder and headed over to Davey, bending down. He paused as he clutched his bandana, looking up at a bewildered Dave, "Do you mind if I..?" Jack lifted the bandana and shook it slightly.

"Uh- go for it?" The curly haired boy responded hesitantly.

Jack reached forward and began tentiviely wiping away the paint smeared on the side of the other's leg, making Davey sway away, "Hold still-"

"I'm trying, you're just- strong-" Davey muttered out.

Jack felt his face get hot at the words but quickly shook it off, "There's just a little more and-"

"The beds are ready, Dave-!" Race burst in before pausing in bewilderment at the scene of Jack bent in front of Davey, a hand on his thigh.
The blonde blinked a few times, "Oh-"

"This isn't what it-" Davey took a few steps back from Jack, making the other stand up quickly and nod his head, "Good to know, Race." He glared at the blonde as if to threaten him with his eyes.

"Oh I'm so telling the guys about this." Race grinned.

"Why you-" Jack began forward before he was stopped as Davey grabbed his collar, "We're stuck together for two weeks don't start a fight on the first day."

Jack grunted, and if it had been anyone except Davey, he'd have listened- but given the circumstances, he hesitated.

"Well, I have to say, we wasn't aware yous was here, Jack." Race crossed his arms over his chest.

"I was back here paintin'! What? Was nobody lookin' for me?" Jack scoffed.

"Looks likes Davey was." Race winked with a grin as he leaned against the door.

Jack opened his mouth to object before realizing that Race was right, Davey had come looking for him- right? On purpose?

"I just wanted to make sure he was here." Davey defended.

On purpose. This made Jack smile slightly.

"Great, well, me, Les, and Spot-"

"Wait, what's Spot Conlon doing here?" Jack scoffed, sitting up completely and standing beside Davey with crossed arms and confusion.

"He's was my date to the show." Race grinned proudly, but this didn't hide the blush that was evident on his face, "H-He just doesn't really know it-"

"You're fucking Spot-"

"Jack." Davey warned verbally.

"Well, hope yous don't mind hard floors then, Jack." Race began to exit before Jack stalked forward.

"Meanin'?" The dirty blonde cocked and eyebrow at the lengthy teen before him.

"We's only got enough beds for me, Spot, Les, Davey- well, basically, everyone except you. Yous was hidin' so-"

"I've been in worse." Jack scoffed, "Thanks for carin'."

"No prob, bud." Race winked, "I'll let you two resume now-" He ran just before Jack could try and strangle him as Davey hid his face in his hands.

"He's just being an ass." Jack waved his hand dismissively before handing Davey the bandana, "Here, you can-"

"Thanks." Davey responded dryly and gently took the item, rubbing at the paint with determination, followed by a grimace as it seemed to only be making it worse.

"Well, that's paint for ya', I guess, Dave." Jack chuckled as he got to his feet.

"So it seems." The curly-haired boy sighed shortly before looking at the bandana, red naturally, but now also smeared with brighter red streaks of paint, "Will this wash off?"

Jack looked over at his bandana that Davey held gingerly, as if he might rip it if he so much as clutched it. He shrugged, "Probably?"

"I'll- well, I can get you a new one if this one ends up with paint all over it." Davey offered with a guilty look.

Jack made a small huff of a noise, something between amusement and interest, "It's fine, it's been through worse- sees and the paint matches it...sorta." He gave a small grin.

"I guess." Davey shrugged before looking towards the door that Race had left, "We should probably-"

"Yeah, let's go." Jack cleared his throat, striding over to the stage door and opening it for Davey with a small bow, "M'lady."

Davey snorted and rolled his eyes, ruffling the hair on top of Jack's head as he passed him.

Jack smiled and followed after the other, fixing his hair as he did so.

***

"And then I told him- I said- I said, you wanna' know why they's call me Spot?" Spot opened his mouth to continue to speak, on his knees surrounded by a circle of boys who watched with interest on the stage, all of them on blocks of foam, sleeping bags, or prop furniture that could he used as beds. The short boy from Brooklyn slid a smirk onto his face when Jack and Davey entered the scene, their faces illuminated from the stage lights present, "Well, if it i'nt Jack Kelly himself! Where'd yous run off to?"

"Oh, ya' know, here and there." Jack shrugged coolly as he approached the circle of boys, sitting on a flat couple yard length of foam.

"Hey! Wes made that one for Dave!" Romeo began to sit up from where he leaned against Spec's legs, their sleeping bags right up next to each other.

"Oh, um- it's fine- Les and I share a bed at home anyway, I can just-" He turned to find Les curled up in what looked to be a dog bed, "Oh, I guess then-"

"I'll move." Jack shrugged, starting to get up.

"No, no, you're fine-" Davey responded a little too quick before clearing his throat as a few of the boys gave him glances. He awkwardly gripped at the cuffs of his shirt, "Well, we're just telling stories anyway, we can share it for now." He moved to sit down beside Jack, both of them just barely fitting on the width of the foam.

Race glared for a moment at Jack's intrusion on his excellent work at putting all the beds together, before giving a small, approving nod and looking back at Spot with a lazy smile, "So, why's they call you Spot?" He mused.

"You know this, Race, you've heard this story." Spot waved his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, but they don't." Race motioned to the group of boys, still listening attentively.

"Oh- oh right-" Spot cleared his throat before continuing, "I told him- cos- cos I got spots 'o dirt all over me and his blood coulda been the next spot!" Spot cheered as the rest of the present newsies hollered in as well.

Davey blinked a few times before leaning over to Jack, "Was that supposed to be climactic?" He whispered.

Jack let out a loud snort of amusement, covering his mouth to hide a laugh.

"What was that, mouth?" Spot bristled as he looked at Davey, who visibly paled and shook his head.

"No, I-"

"So why is you named Dave then, huh?" The short boy balled his fists up, and all eyes were turned on Davey.

"M-Me?" Davey furrowed his brow.

"No, the Dave behind ya." Spot dead-panned.

Davey fought the urge to look behind him and shrugged shortly, "It's not really a big deal."

"Then why is you making fun of mine bein' a deal or not?" Spot snarled, shifting from where he sat.

"I wasn't, I was just asking-"

"He's named after our Grandpa who worked for the Circus!" Les chirped up excitedly, looking as though he hadn't just been asleep in a dog bed.

Davey's face turned a dark scarlet and his shoulders slumped slightly.

A few snickered began to pop up before Davey felt a hand slap onto his back.

"A fellow hustler, hows I knew that you had it in yer blood, Davey?" Jack gave Davey a knowing grin.

The surrounding boys, all except for Spot, began to murmur in agreement after their leader's words.

"Dave was just askin' me if there was more to the story, Spot, care to share?" Jack smirked.

"W-Well, of course there is! You know- I also got some circus blood in me-" This launched a complete half hour conversation that ended in sleepy faces as the natural light from outside to be dimmed.

Medda arrived once the boys had seemingly quieted down, "Lights out, darlings!" She clapped her hands gently to the boys, who grumbled in slight protest, but knew better than to argue with someone who was being generous enough to give them essentials. She left shortly after to take care of the lights as the newsboys shifted into their respective beds.

Jack got up and stretched his arms before looking around the stage and opting to where a fallen wings curtain was, clumping together the velvety fabric before seeming satisfied and easing himself onto it.

Davey opened his mouth to say something, perhaps offer that Jack could, at the very least, bring his make-shift bed over, but the lights were killed a moment before he could, leaving Davey to only imagine the other boy's silhouette in the darkness of the theatre.