No one would expect a 15 year old to know much about cigars. But then again, Albert DeSavilla was always an unexpected kind of kid. His family owned a smoke shop tucked away in the depths of Manhattan. Had Albert wanted to get involved in the cigar business? No. But his grandmother down in the Bronx got sick and someone had to step in to help keep the shop standing while his parents took care of her.
It was a spring day just like any other when a scrawny little blonde walked into the shop. The ginger haired boy frowned. What was this kid doing inside a cigar shop? Instead of calling the blonde out, Al chose to sit and watch him. He didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing. He never came over to ask for help though. He just searched the shelves with a focus and drive he had never seen in young person before. Apparently he found what he was looking for though, because the boy gave out a little cheer and came bounding over to pay for it.
“Uh….. How old are you?” Albert asked as he calculated the total. This kid was way too young to have a smoking problem…..
“15.” He answered. “It’s for my mom. My dad kind of sucks and it helps her deal with him.” Albert nodded and handed the paper bag over the counter. “Do you always work at this time?”
“Only on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.”
“I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow then.” Without ACTUALLY introducing himself, the blonde boy was out the door. Albert stared at the door with a small smile on his lips. Huh. What a kid…….
The next day had Al bouncing up and down. He was anxious for the boy from yesterday to come back in. Why??? Honestly he wasn't sure. There was something about him that was…… intriguing. The sound of the door shutting pulled him from his trance. The blonde boy from the day before bounced up to the desk.
“Hiya!” His blue eyes sparkled and his lips twisted into a huge smile. His smile was infectious apparently because he found himself smiling back.
“Hey there!” Al leaned one elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his fist. “So, I didn't catch your name yesterday.”
“My real name doesnt matter. Just call me Racetrack. And what name can I call my favorite ginger boy?” Wait…… was he flirting? Um…. Uh…. How…. Response?
“Albert.” His response was short. He was afraid that if he said anything more he might start rambling. Why was he nervous?!
“Well Albert, I'm going to take the same thing I did yesterday and be on my way.” Just the same as the day before, Albert rang a single cigar up and handed the bag across the counter. This time though, the boys fingers brushed. The copper top yanked his hand back and bit his lip. What was this?! These feelings things??? This wasn't supposed to be how he felt…..
Race looked down at his feet and smiled a bit. Alright Albert. Get yourself together. Whatever this was, might as well embrace it. As Race walked backwards he waved at his new friend. Taking a giant leap of faith, Albert winked at his friend and waved back. A red tint perked up his pale cheeks as he stumbled backwards out the door.
This continued on for almost a year. Race would come in a few times a week and buy a cigar for his mom. Every once in awhile the boys would flirt back and forth. Race would compliment Albert on how nice his hair looked (and how great it must feel to have someone run their fingers through it) and Albert always noticed when Race was freshly showered because of how incredible he would smell.
The first time they kissed was on Christmas. Albert watched from the window of his apartment, which was above the shop, for Racetrack. It was a Saturday after all. When he saw the familiar blonde boy, he had ran downstairs to great him. A very cold and out of breath Race pushed a small box in his hands, pressed his lips to Al’s, and whispered merry christmas. Albert yanked him back to kiss him again before his friend (friend????) ran off again. That day would forever be engraved into the ginger boys mind. The pink color of Race’s nose and cheeks from the bitter cold. The dark gray hat that concealed his blonde curls. Winter seemingly stole colors away and blanketed them in white, so the blue of his eyes popped more than usual. The fact that his lips were warm despite the freezing temperatures. Inside the box he had been gifted sat a hat like Race’s. It was brown and a little wrinkled, but it was perfect the way it was.
That was the last time Albert saw Race for a few weeks. The first day he wasn't there wasn't a big deal. The second day made him a little nervous. One week went by and Al was panicking. He knew about Racetrack’s father. He knew what an awful man he was. Did something happen? Was Race okay? Was his mom okay? What in the world had happened? Weeks passed and the ginger boy gave up on ever seeing his friend again. If he hadn’t been back in over a month, he wasn’t coming back at all.
That changed on a dreary Monday. A torrential downpour of rain was coming down outside. The streets of New York were dead. Well, dead for NYC. The only people outside were tourists. Albert was sitting behind the counter, as he did every Monday, with his feet propped up on the counter and his hat covering his eyes. No one was coming in, so he was using it as a chance to get a nap in. He was right about to fall asleep when the front door opened. The freshly turned 16 year old didn’t even have time to groan when he heard the voice of an angel.
“That cap suits you better than I thought it would.” His feet came off the counter so quickly, the poor boy nearly fell over. He turned his cap backwards and stared at the person in his shop. Racetrack looked taller, but carried himself differently than before. His eyes were red, but not from the cold. Oh no…. This was something else. Albert jumped over the counter and walked over to the boy he was convinced he had lost. Was……. Was he really here? “Backwards. That suits you even better.” He tried to laugh, but he knew that the boy before him could see right through the act. So, instead of fighting it, he reached out to bury his face in his boy’s neck and just cry.
Albert, who was not at all good with emotions, stood motionless for the longest time. What was he supposed to do?! Wait……. Ever so slowly, he wrapped his arms firmly around the lanky boy’s frame. He felt Race lean into his arms, a sign that he was doing the right thing. He could feel cold drops of rain dripping off the ends of the blonde curls and dripping down the back of his shirt. He could also feel the hot tears dripping on the front of his shirt. Soon, he was gently rubbing Racetrack’s back and assuring him that everything was going to be okay. All he had to do was calm down, breathe, and explain what happened.
“My mom’s gone.” He eventually said. “She caught pneumonia and on top of her smoking, she just couldn’t-” Race choked on the last few words. “I feel awful Al. If I didn’t help her smoking along, this might not have happened. And the only reason she stuck ‘round so long with my pops was because of my sister and I and he’s the reason she smoked. I can’t help thinkin’ that this is my fault, or I could have at least done somethin’ different.” Albert quickly hushed him and pushed his friend (who wasn’t a friend but sort of a friend) back far enough to press their lips together softly. The blonde clung onto his ginger like his life depended on it. And while his life may not depend on it, his emotional stability sure did.
“There is nothing you could have done differently. And this ain’t your fault. If you’re father wasn’t such a piece of shit then she might not have smoked. She still might have, though. And getting sick is Mother Nature’s fault. Don’t you dare put this on you.” Racetrack ended up hanging around the shop all day long. He hadn’t known where else to go, and his feet took him to the shop before his mind could think it through. And now he didn’t want to go anywhere else. So the boys sat on the ground and played cards all day, sharing little touches and lots of laughs as the storm raged on above them.
“Hey, can I get a box of cigars, plus one loose one? I want my mom to be buried with the thing that helped her get through the pain for all those years. And I want one for myself so I have a piece of her with me all the time.”
“As long as you promise me you’ll never light it. Coronas?”
“I promise. And yeah, Coronas.”
Race left that day with a box of cigars in his hands, and one hanging so perfectly from his lips that Albert knew he would never look at a Corona cigar the same again.
Tragedy struck in the DeSavilla family not even two weeks later. Due to the shop not doing well enough, the family had no choice but to close and sell it. Albert’s parents were heartbroken. They said that they were going to go move in with his grandmother. A huge fight broke out in the family over that idea. Albert wanted to stay. He never once said that the reason he wanted to stay was because of a pair of blue eyes and a cigar, but he fought to stay for a million other reasons. His parents fought to leave. They pulled every single reason out of the book, straight down to “you live under our roof so you will do as we say.” But he still fought.
Al was sitting on the steps of the smoke shop on Saturday when his regular visitor stopped by, cigar between his lips. Just like the ginger had done for him, he knew that something was wrong. But he didn’t pry. Just sat and waited for him to open up and talk on his own.
“The shop’s closed. We’s’ll be moving to the Bronx next week. And I don’t want to go. I love…. Manhattan, and I uh, can’t imagine living anywhere else.” Real smooth Albert.... Real smooth.
“Come live with me.” Race said without missing a beat. Albert whipped around to stare at the boy beside him. WAS HE INSANE?! “No, no, sorry! I live in a lodging house. Me and a bunch’a other boys sell papes on the streets and live off that. It really ain’t a fine life, but it could at least be halfway decent if ya came along. Maybe you’d even get to be my partner.”
“Selling partner,” Albert asked, “or…. Partner partner?
“Whatever kind of partner you want to be.”
The idea was pitched to his parents. He could stay back and sell papers. Make a living for himself. He was only two years away from being an adult. Maybe it would get him a good job, and he would be able to afford to get a shop open again, or at least a nice place to live. He would save up so they could just blow some dough and go full on delux. Albert’s mother and father had grown tired of his persistent pleading, and the two never really did have that great of a relationship with their boy. If he wanted to live on the streets so badly, then fine.
Racetrack brought him to the Manhattan lodging house that night. They ignored all the boys who jumped up to ask who he was. They pushed past half naked teenagers, twelve year olds learning how to gamble, and more than a few things being slingshot across a room. All the way on top of the roof, a boy in hat just like the one Race wore and had given him for Christmas stood to greet them.
“Albert Im guessing.” Albert nodded, confused on how he was already known. “It’s nice to finally meet’cha. Racer here won’t shuddup about ya.” A blush hit his cheeks that was so red it almost matched his hair. Thank goodness it was dark! “The name’s Jack Kelly, and from here on out, you’s a newsie. Welcome to the family.”
hey!! could you do a rly fluffy jack x reader (i’ve had a bad day rip)? i love your writing sm!! 💘
(Aw darling I’m sorry you had a bad day! Please feel free to come chat if you need to/want to! <3)
“Do you ever get tired of this life?” You asked Jack as you stared up into the vast openness of space.
“All the time.” He answered. The two of you were laying on top of a few blankets in the bed of his truck, which was parked along the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
The two of you had been best friends for ages. There was no one in the world that knew you better than Jack did, and vise versa. He knew everything. Everything except for the fact that you were madly in love with him. That was something he did not know, nor did he need to know. You could remain friends and never have to chance losing him.
“Sometimes I wish I could run away and restart my life. Go somewhere that no one knows who I am and I can just become a new person.” You didn’t need to look over to know that Jack was agreeing with you. He had this big dream of Santa Fe for as long as you could remember. “My whole world is here though. I can’t just pick it up in my hands and carry it wherever I want.”
“Psh,” Jack scoffed, “I could. I could easily pick up my entire world and take it away.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it.” You had just meant it teasingly. There was no way he could do it. But then he was standing. And then he was pulling you to your feet. And then he was scooping you up so you lay bridal style in his arms.
It took you a few moments to figure out what he meant by the gesture. Why had he just picked you up? All you had challenged him to do was pick up his world and…… oh. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the realization hit your face. He was going to set you down, but you were able to make a move before he did. Leaning forward, you rested a hand on his cheek and pressed your lips to his. Jack wasted no time kissing you back. He was careful to make sure your lips stayed pressed together even as he put you back on your feet. His arms wrapped around you and a tight hug so he could fully relish the moment. Your own arms stayed securely wrapped around his neck so he couldn’t go anywhere.
After a good few minutes at least, the two of you broke out of a need for air. The desperate gasps turn into fits of giggles and small pecks on the lips. All while still standing on the blanket pile, in the bed of the truck, under the sky of stars.
“How long have you been waiting to do that?” Jack asked.
“Way too long.” You admitted while biting your lip. “Am I really your world?”
“You are. You’re the one thing that matters. You’re my past, present, and future. And I don’t want to change a thing.” This earned him another kiss that lasted much longer than the first had.
Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you.
Why was contemporary dancing so hard? Wait. No. Strike that. It wasn’t hard. Contemporary with Race was hard. And that was only because he was so perfect it made it hard to focus.
The two of you had gotten paired together for a showcase dance in the Valentine’s day performance. You both were both dance majors and were doing everything you could to impress your instructors. When one suggested you and Race work together for a showcase moment, you both jumped at the opportunity. A broadway talent scout would be in the audience for the performance so it was a huge deal that you scored a showcase.
The first time you sat down with Race to work out details was at a little coffee shop right on campus. You poured over youtube videos, Spotify playlists, and pages of notes for over an hour. Both of you downed at least two cups of coffee in that time. All was worth it though. You came to agree that a contemporary piece to the classic Elvis song “Cant Help Falling in Love with You” was a good route to take. Your professors all loved it and you were given private studio time immediately.
You were not falling for Racetrack Higgins. This was a fact you told yourself every day. You were not in love with him. You admired his passion for dance, was in awe of his fluidity when he moved, and thankful that he was at least cute, but you were not in love with him. Little did you know, he had similar thoughts. Race tried to convince himself he wasn’t in love with you.You were pretty, and graceful, and funny, and determined. But he wasn’t in love. It would be stupid to fall in love with someone that could be his competition someday. He had to be wise and not rush into things.
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you.
You had debated dropping the showcase. You believed you had enough talent to stand out amongst the crowd. The talent agent would be offering a scholarship to your school as well as lessons with a Broadway choreographer. It was rumoured however that they only would be picking one student to receive it. As many times as you denied it, you knew you had feelings for your partner. Feelings that grew every single rehearsal. If you dropped the showcase, you could put all your focus into your dancing and not worry about a pair of pretty blue eyes staring at you. But no. You wanted the talent scout to notice you. You would have to fight how you felt.
“Alright (Y/N) we have a problem.” Race was already in the studio when you got there on Valentine’s eve. He was dropped into a split on the ground, his hands stretched out in front of him. “You don’t trust me.”
“What? Of course I do!” You had to. There was way too many times when you placed your safety in his hands for you not to trust him.
“No ya don’t. You’re stiff. So I gots ya something.” He stood up and pulled a bandana from his pocket. “I’m gonna blindfold ya. That’away you have no choice but ta trust me and relax.”
Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you.
He was helping you? He could have let you be stiff and tense and lose points in the showcase. But no….. He chose to help…. Huh.
A hand gently grabbed yours and led you blindly to a place on the floor. The music started only a moment later. Race was gentle with you. He knew you knew every step of the dance forward and backwards. You’re movements were so jerky though. He had seen you do so much better so many times in class. If you were the better dancer and got the scholarship, so be it. That’s just how life went. Maybe you were meant to be the lead in the next Broadway smash hit musical. And this showcase could be the opportunity to do that. Of course, Race thought the same thing of himself. But he didn’t want to win unfairly. You both had to dance to the best of your abilities. And if he was being honest with himself, you were even more beautiful than usual when you fully danced from the heart.
The first lift was rough. You were so scared he would drop you or you would misstep. But when your feet landed smoothly back on the ground and you were led into the next step, you visibly relaxed. Race’s hands smoothly ran across your skin as he moved your arms, gripped your waist, or held you in the air. You were falling in love with his touch every passing moment. He handled you perfectly. He was commanding and dominant with his touch and movement when he was supposed to be, yet let his fingers dance around you, light as butterflies, when it was your moment to shine. He held you securely when you were lifted onto his shoulder and when you stood on his thighs. His embrace was warm and comforting as he spun you around. And he held himself a safe distance from you as he rolled overtop of you on the floor.
Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you.
Every single touch was filled with love and care. You could feel that now that your focus was fully in the dance. Race could tell that you could feel it as well. It was honestly about time. How long had you been dancing together and you were only just now getting around to seeing how much love he poured into this dance in particular. And it made his heart soar when you actually reacted back. Your touch felt so much more genuine this time around. Instead of just brushing your hand against his face it felt more like a loving caress. You leaned into his touch more and left yourself smile instead of keeping a straight face.
This. This is what he had been waiting for. Your heart and soul were finally on the dance floor. You were so beautiful. Spinning, leaping, bending, smiling. You were giving everything you possibly could, and it gave you a radiating glow that you had never had before.
Your piece ended with Race standing behind you , his arms around your waist, and one of your hands pressed up to his cheek. A wide grin hit your face as you felt the familiar hug. Instead of stepping away like you usually did, you allowed yourself to stand there in his arms for a few moments. Race’s heart was….. Well, racing. Was it because of the explosive chemistry in your work? Or something else? Your hands reached up to untie the bandana when a pair of soft hands moved from holding you to turning you around. Your blindfold didn’t make it off before a pair of lips found your own. They were hesitant at first, only making themselves known for a second. They returned with much more confidence when you tried to lean into the kiss. Race held your face in both hands and feverishly molded his mouth against yours. He tasted like sweat and mint gum. The mint gum he was always chewing……
Valentine’s day, the next day, came and passed in a blur. You spent all day on a “date” with Race. You rushed around for coffee, your costumes, makeup, your dance bags, a quick homework drop off, a ride to the theater, and a run of the entire show. Oh, and plenty of kisses were shared throughout the day.
A week after your showcase, you and Race both received an envelope in the mail. You opened them together, then gathered all of your friends in one room to share the news. The talent scout hadn’t recruited just one person. Both of you were chosen for their program. Every single one of your friends agreed that after the showcase you had performed, they would be stupid not to take you both.
I can’t help falling in love with you.
“I have a secret for you. I love you Racetrack Higgins.” You whispered in his ear that night during your celebration of being accepted. Various containers of Chinese take out and solo cups of champagne littered the floor of Jack and Davey’s dorm room.
“I have a secret for you too. I’ve loved you for a long time.” Race kissed you right there, sitting on the floor, tasting like broccoli and soy sauce. Even then, he somehow managed to be delicious.
Summary : You and Crutchie have a quiet day reading at the park
Warnings : Spoilers for Everything Everything by Nicola Yoon.
Authors Note : ITS ABOUT TIME I POSTED THIS!!!! Anyways, if you have not read or watched Everything Everything and want to spoiler free, don’t read this!
“He tugs my hand just slightly. It's a question. I know, and I look up from the miracle of our hands to the miracle of his face and eyes and lips loving closer to mine. Did I move? Did he?”
The sun was shining, a warm breeze blew by, and you and your boyfriend were laying underneath a tree in Central Park. This had become a regular thing. You and Crutchie would take a small picnic to the park and read under a tree. His reading voice was smooth. Words rolled off of his tongue like he was speaking symphonies into existence. Emotions flowed naturally when necessary. He was a magical reader honestly.
He laid with his head propped up against the tree trunk and body out on the red and white checkered blanket you’d been reading on all summer. You were laying on your side, head resting on his chest. The warm July sun peeked through the leaves above you. It was a perfect day. Lunch had consisted of sandwiches and fruit, and now you were reading through Everything Everything by Nicola Yoon.
“His breath and then his lips are brushing butterfly-soft against mine. My eyes close on their own. The romantic comedies are right about this part. You have to close your eyes. He pulls away and my lips are cold. Am I doing it wrong? My eyes fly open and crash into the darkening blue of his. He kisses me like he’s afraid to continue and he’s afraid to stop. I grip the front of his shirt and hold on tight.”
This part made you want to reach out and kiss the beautiful boy beside you. The silky smooth words came pouring from his mouth with such love in his voice that you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Crutchie looked over at you and smiled. It was almost as if he knew what you were thinking. You pushed yourself up just enough to press your lips to your boyfriend’s.
Olly reminded you of Crutchie. He was gentle and careful, like he may break you if he pushed too hard. But, he was also strong and protective. He’d take a beating from a demon itself if it meant a finger wasn’t laid on you. He seemed like someone you had known all your life, yeet you constantly learned new things about him. He was both an adventure and a home at the same time.
“Can I keep reading or do you want to continue to gross tourists out with public displays of affection?” You chuckled and moved your head back to his chest to listen to him read again. “My butterflies are rioting.” You couldn't help but laugh. That very easily could have been a book line, or an admittance of feelings. “He squeezes my hand and my lips part and we’re tasting each other. He tastes like salted caramel and sunshine. Or at least what I think salted caramel and sunshine taste like. He tastes like nothing I’ve ever experienced, like hope and possibility and the future.”
How the author so perfectly captured the essence of a boy they had never met was astonishing. Crutchie really was like Olly. He represented the good in the world. Sunshine on a cloudless day, warm sand between your toes, salted caramels, the thunderous applause during a standing ovation, a trip you had only dreamed of before, or a well worn book. He was all those things, in one blonde boy. It was one of the reasons you loved this book so much. Because while you were not much of a Maddy, Crutchie was an Olly.
“I pull away this time,” he continues to read, “but only because I need air. If I could, I would kiss him every second of every day for all the days.” Wasn’t that just a big, fat, giant MOOD!? “He leans his forehead against mine. His breath is warm against my nose and cheeks. It’s slightly sweet. The kind of sweet that makes you want more. Is it always like that? I ask breathlessly. No, he says. It's never like that. I hear the wonder in his voice. And just like that, everything changes.”
Crutchie closes the book and runs his fingers through your hair. Neither of you say anything for a long time. His hand finds yours to hold. You just lay there in pure happiness. People pass. People with kids. With dogs. Every time a dog passes, whoever saw it first would squeeze the other’s hand to make sure they saw it. It was your own special kind of communication.
“Hey (Y/N)?” Crutchie asks after nearly 10 minutes of silence. You just hum in return. “Can we pull an Ollie and Maddy? Let’s go somewhere. Take a spontaneous trip to wherever we feel like it. Just to breath a fresh of breath air.”
“I would love to do that. We can go to end our summer. Where do you want to go?”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” You laughed, kissed him once lovingly, and proceeded to start brainstorming all the places you could go.
Why in the world did it seem to be that every time it rained in New York, you were outside? This time you were walking from a chinese takeout place up to Jack’s apartment building. It was only a block, but the rain came down like a flood before you even made it a third of the way to the apartment. It was a mad dash up the sidewalk to get to the building. It was useless though. There was no avoiding that torrential downpour. Once you were safely inside you took a moment to assess the damage. Food was safe! You were soaked, but the food was safe. That’s all that mattered.
Jack lived in the very top floor. His apartment was in the corner. He had an absolutely stunning view out across the city. You knocked on his door once you made it up and stood in the hallway shivering. A grinning Jack opened the door. His face fell once he saw just how wet you were.
“Oh babe I’m so sorry.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing while you went inside. You set food down on the counter and stood there. If you didn’t move for long enough, he would come over……. Just as you predicted, he came to check on you. Once he got close enough, you turned around and hugged him tightly.
“I love you so much Jack!” He groaned loudly in defeat. Crap. You had gotten him. Might as well embrace it.
“I love you too!” He wrapped his arms around you and drew you even closer. You giggled at him and stood up on your toes to press a wet kiss to his lips. He kissed back eagerly, but pulled away softly. His nose nuzzled yours before he pressed a light kiss in between your eyes. “How about I go get you a t-shirt of mine and you can change? I’ll throw your shirt and pants in the dryer for you. And you’re welcome to dry off in the bathroom.” You thanked him and scurried off to the bathroom with a fresh shirt. When you emerged, your boyfriend was in sweatpants and a, dry, paint stained t-shirt. Both of you were much more comfortable now that you had changed.
Dinner was spread out on the living room coffee table, a couple drinks as well, and numerous blankets waited to be used on the back of the couch. At first you had just sat down, but Jack was quick to convince you to lay down. You laid back and let your boy lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest, his arms sneaking under you to hold you. Now it was time to decide what to watch.
“Jack, I don’t want to watch Bob Ross AGAIN!”
“He’s so soothing to watch though (Y/N). If we can’t watch Bob, then we aren’t watching The Office. It’s not funny.” After arguing for another almost 10 minutes, you finally decided on what to watch. A throwback to your childhood. Courage the Cowardly Dog.
Was there anything better than cartoons and chinese on a rainy day? The pitter patter of rain raged against the roof. The only time Jack let go of you was to grab a forkful of food. His body heat kept you warm and cozy. When you talked about memories of the show, he would turn his head and rest it on your chest so he could look at you. Every time he did this, you forgot what you were saying. And then he would smile so big it took up his whole face and he would stretch to kiss you lightly. It was honestly unfair how adorable he was. He got away with everything.
A loud crack of thunder halfway through an episode made you jump out of your skin. A bolt of lightning lit up the entire apartment before everything went pitch black. Great. The power was out. Jack cursed and, sadly, pushed himself off of you. He pulled his phone’s flashlight out and scanned it around the room. It wasn’t late enough to go to bed yet. What were you supposed to do now?
“Jack?” You asked, seeing his face twist into a mischievous grin in the glow of his phone light. “What are you thinking?”
“Don’t worry. Stay right there. I have an idea.” He shook his head and got to work.
Quite the idea he had. WIthin 20 minutes you were cuddled back up with him in a blanket fort. A thick and fluffy blanket covered you both. A laptop sat in your laps with a DVD loading. Your hand ran through his hair and played with little locks of his soft hair. One of his fingers lazily drew patterns on your leg under the blanket. It was perfect. Your evening was perfect. He was perfect.
The movie didn’t last long. At least your attention to it didn’t. Jack sleepily peppered kisses all over your neck as you tried to watch the movie. He eventually won the fight for your attention and got you to kiss him. It was all very soft and gentle. Though your lips never left his, there was nothing rough about it. They were sleepy and lazy kisses. Your kisses were slow and drawn out. You’d breathe against each other’s mouths before going in for another, not wanting to even be far enough away from each other to breathe for real. His hands ghosted over your body. They traveled up your legs, around your thighs, over your stomach, down to your feet. His fingers lightly danced up and down your arms. Every once in a while his hands would stop to cup your face as he kissed you again. They would always return to their drifting like they were trying to memorize every inch of you. Like he was taking a test and your was a cheat sheet.
You didn’t stay as busy as he did, but didn’t deprive him either. He had lost his shirt before climbing into the fort. This gave you the opportunity to trace every dip and curve of his muscles. You'd occasionally feel they shift to press up into your touch or move and touch you. This all carried on until your movie ended. Jack moved away from you to push the laptop closed. H laid back down, nose pressing to yours.
“I love so much more than you will ever know.” He whispered, as if it was the key to unlocking the secrets of the world.
“I love you too. To Santa Fe and back.” He chuckled at the inside joke. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck and drifted to sleep listening to the rain hit the roof and the feeling of Jack rubbing your back. Pillow forts and old cartoons became a regular thing after that day.
Bouncing on a tree branch singing Rafiki’s song from Lion King, then falling from said branch breaking.
Wearing swim goggles and a spiderman suit. “It is Wednesday my dudes. AHHHHHHHHH”
“Jello? More Like hello.” Then sucking on the jello and choking on it.
“Road work ahead?!” While driving past a construction sign. “Well I sure hope so!”
Confusion because “if this is Kansas, why is this not Ar-Kansas?”
Staring at himself in the mirror in nothing but a pair of black lace panties.
Crying because he got the hose of a vacuum stuck on his crotch.
He’s paying giant Jenga and tries to pull out a piece but half the stack falls on his face.
“FREE SHA VACA DO!”
Pretending to trip and fall, then just cries and shoves spaghetti in his pockets when someone walks by and asks if he’s okay
Walking through the grocery store, pronouncing everything wrong.
“Hurricane Katrina? More like Hurricane Tortilla!”
And a handful guest starring his best friend Spot…….
Race scares Spot, making Spot scold him because “I could have dropped my croissant”
Spot’s driving while Race gets increasingly more dramatic lip syncing “baby its you! You’re the one I want. You’re the one I need!”
Spot has the phone in the backseat while Kermit and Race sit up front. Kermit sings. “SHAWTY I DONT. MIND!”
Spot takes Race to a car wash for the first time and the boy loses it and is terrified from then on of car washes
Race is wearing a lion suit and lays on the ground “lion on the flooooor” then he switches the camera to always buff af Spot in all black “HARAMBE! HARAMBE!”
Spot’s cooking dinner and Race is grinding dancing behind him.
