#gleeful1direction

[bisexualshakespeare]

gleeful1direction replied to your post: I still have the url asoryfangirl for sentimental...

NOW I REMEBER YOU.

you had FORGOTTEN??

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

youreyesarelikestarlightnow said:

Liv I don’t know who your friend is but i am deeply amused

Cari you need to know Clint.

Clint, you need to know Cari.

Clint, Cari; Cari, Clint.

Love each other. Be amused.

(And I'm amused too but mostly just confused???)

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

Clint!Verse - Jesse's Girl

Jesse Clarence Delancey was now sixteen years old, having celebrated his birthday a month earlier. He had grown up to look more like Morris than Oscar, the same brown hair, and similar facial structure.  He dressed a little more sharply, however. More like he had a plan for what would come after he turned eighteen; plans for college. But he never planned on someone like Joan.

In Jesse's grade, there was a girl named Joan Sweeney. Jesse had always considered her sweet, and good-natured, and highly intelligent. She didn't worry like Morris or Braces. She knew perfectly well how the world worked. Her obstinacy proved more a virtue than anything. Her hotheaded comments and quick-witted retorts were part of why Jesse liked her so much. Joan had wavy black hair that only went to her shoulders, and bright blue eyes that always caught him off guard. She was tall, but not too thin; she was, actually, stronger than the other girls in her class. Her father was a newsie, as well, and having heard stories from parents and godparents, Jesse and Joan told each other as many of the mishaps as they could.

So, one day, Jesse brought her home for dinner with his family. Not giving his fathers any warning, heads were reeling at the sight of a girl on the porch.

"Jesse, who's this?" Oscar inquired, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Joan Sweeney," Jesse introduced. "Joan, this is my dad."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Delancey." Joan quickly shook Oscar's hand. Morris hurried to the door.

"Jesse, you didn't tell me you were bringin' 'nyone." Morris frowned. He always expected Jesse to bring home a nice boy. This was a bit of a shock.

"Sorry, dad. This Joan. Joan, this is my other dad." Jesse glanced to her, and she frowned.

"Oh… you have two dads?" She inquired, frowning a little. Her parents never did accept that.

"Yeah, Morris and Oscar Delancey." Jesse furrowed his eyebrows. "Why, is that… is that a problem?"

"Not to me, just my parents." Joan cracked a smile, "They're paranoid and conservative. Gotta love 'em, but, uh... well, they don't know I'm dating a Christian boy with gay parents."

"You're Jewish, right." Jesse nodded slowly, as they sat down at the table. "Well, no judgments here. We's agnostic, kinda... sorta. I mean, Dad-Morris an' I are a little religious, but Dad-Oscar ain't. An' my mom's stopped believin'."

*

"Well, I really like your dads." Joan smiled, after being walked home by Jesse. They stood in the light of a dim lamp on the porch, close enough to touch. "I don't know about my parents, but--,"

"Joanie, come inside, you'll catch your death!" Her mother's voice called from inside.

"Just a moment, mama!" Joan replied, frowning. "They're strict with me, you should... you should go."

"I'm not afraid." Jesse leaned in a little, though he was hesitant and just a little scared in reality. Joan got onto her tip-toes and gave him a chaste kiss. She disappeared into the door after a moment, giving him barely enough time to press his lips back before she had gone inside. He smiled, feeling a little successful and just a bit in love. He sauntered back home, hands stuffed in pockets, and whistled an old love song he'd heard on the radio.

"Jesse Delancey," He told himself as he reached his house again, "You are goin' tah marry that girl."

[bravebattalion]

"Enjolras and Marius" Clint what does that mean Do u ship it? Are they your parents? Do u just like them?

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

Clint!Verse: Maybe

"Dad?" Jesse asked again, even quieter. No response. Jesse pushed out the door and sat down on the porch, glaring at the sidewalk. He wanted to know. He felt like, maybe if he knew, everything else would make sense. Jesse began to analyze his life; the circumstances in which he grew up. Even his name. Jesse Clarence Delancey. Where did the Clarence come from? He didn't even know a Clarence.

A familiar footfall could be heard just a few feet away. A pair of boots, lightly stepping, but with a slight scrape and a thud. It was Braces. She stood carrying a book and a paper-bag, though she hadn't sold newspapers in about eleven years. Jesse looked to her dolefully. "Hey, Braces."

"Everything alright, Jesse?" Braces sat next to him on the porch, placing her bag and the book down at her side. "You look pretty upset."

"No, nothin's alright."

"Ya wanna talk about it?"

"Braces, do you know who my mother was?" Jesse locked eyes with her. Braces noted that he really did have her eyes; that Morris wasn't making it up. Of course, he looked so much like Morris, of course. He had the same light brown hair, the sarcastic remarks despite the kindhearted gestures. Braces stammered, unsure as Morris had been. Calmly, she reached into her bag and pulled out a lett`er. Jesse opened the thing and began to read. It was in Braces' familiar, messy cursive and clearly hadn't been opened in years.

Jesse read the last section aloud. "'When I was fifteen, your fathers cornered me in an alleyway. As much as it pains me to say it, Jesse, you were born because they raped me. I'm so sorry. Your fathers and I love you still, despite the fact. I know, this letter really doesn't sound like me, but Davey's helping me phrase it. I wouldn't be able to otherwise.'" Jesse glanced to Braces earnestly. It seemed highly unrealistic, and wildly fanciful. Chimerical, was the word he was looking for.

"Jess… Jesse?" Braces inquired quietly.

"Hi, mom." Jesse replied quietly, shakily, before throwing his arms around her. "Mom."

"Jess, you can't call me that." Braces shook her head, though she rocked him as she would have if things had been different. She quietly began singing an old Irish tune she sang to her kids when they were sad or sick or hurt. Jesse leaned into her chest and let himself cry a little as he gripped her waist.

Morris quietly, carefully walked outside, noticing his son and Braces. He frowned. "Jesse, is everything okay?" He asked, highly quiescent.

"Dad, why didn't you tell me?" He sat up slowly, messy brown hair flying all over. "Why didn't you tell me that Braces--?"

"Because we did something horrible to her, Oscar an' I  did. I'm sorry, Jess."

"Damn right you are." Jesse spat as he slowly stood up, earning a disapproving look from Braces. "You don't just push people into an alleyway an'--an'---why did you do that?"

"Oscar drugged me."

"That's absolutely NO excuse for what you did, Dad! What you did… yeah, it's why I'm here, but that's… it's vile." Jesse's hands were clenched in fists of rage as he glared at his father. Braces stood up, shaking her head 'no' in an attempt to stop the outburst. Morris looked to Braces with furrowed eyebrows, worried that she had said something. Braces shook her head again, suddenly, for the first time in very long, afraid of him.

"Clara, is there something you wanna say?" Morris asked skeptically, smirking as if he knew she had said something.

"Morris, this is 1915, not 1899!" Braces snapped, "Don't you dare talk to me like that when I'm the only reason your son's here."

"Right, and that was because you were out too late at night. Wrong place, wrong time, doll." Morris suddenly didn't seem like he had been for the last fifteen years. He was like he was the night it happened.

"Don't call me that, you scab." Braces stood in front of Jesse, shoulders squared though she was at least six inches shorter than the boy. "And I was not in the wrong. That was you, and Oscar, and it was never me. It took me months to feel okay again after you did that an' I had to cope while pregnant, so don't you go tellin' me that I'm worthless like ya did then." Morris reached out to grab her shoulder comfortingly, but Braces took it as an attack and hit him. Jesse pulled her back before standing between them.

"Cut it out!" He demanded, as Braces and Morris glared at each other. The anger had been suppressed on Braces' side for years, but when she saw Jesse she knew she had to calm down. "I jus'... it was wrong whatcha did, Dad. I mean it. But Jesus Christ, don't act my age. 'S jus'... Braces, how old was you when it happened?"

"That's a 'orrible question. Fifteen, since you'se fifteen."

Morris nodded slowly, feeling more like himself, less like he had moments before, when his personality seemingly split. He nodded.

"So maybe we can't all agree," Jesse began, glancing between both. "But wes a family, an' we gotta stay that way. I love both of you... so we gotta compromise, okay?"

"Okay." Came the unanimous answer. "Good," Jesse continued, "We don' need a normal life, then. Whatever we got is good enough fer 'nybody. We'll be fine."

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

Clint!Verse: Left Behind

"Jesse, slow down!" Jack Patrick Morris, age eleven, called, running behind the now sixteen-year-old Jesse Delancey. Jesse had offered to walk the boy home from school, but he had forgotten that he was going into the army the next day. He had packing to do, people to say goodbye to. Maybe by walking Jack home, he could kill two birds with one stone and say goodbye to Crutchie and Braces, who were like a second set of parents to him.

"Sorry!" Jesse exclaimed, stopping for a moment. "Just a bit excited!"

"Well, calm down, I don't run so good." Jack replied tiredly, his husky voice more hoarse than usual. Of course, he had the use of both of his legs, but his parents never really taught him how to walk, as they weren't good at it themselves. He was always careful of his right leg, and walked with an imaginary limp from time to time if something was bothering him. He and Jesse were often mistaken for siblings, having the same eyes and a similar temperament. However, Jesse always replied with the fact that he didn't know who his mother was, that he had two fathers. Both boys, of course, knew that wasn't biologically possible, but to avoid a "when-you're-older" from the Delanceys and Morrises, neither wanted to ask their parents and simply assumed it was a mystery to all of them.

"Well, I'll teach ya if--when I come back." Jesse replied gently, swallowing at the thought.

"Jesse, did you just use an if?"

"No!"

"Delancey...!"

"Fine, I'm goin' into the army, Jacky-boy, I'm not sure I'll come back in once piece." Jesse remarked, taking a step forward. "There's a war on."

"I know there is. My father didn't get drafted on account of his leg." Jack shrugged as Jesse ruffled his messy auburn hair to cheer him up.

"Chin up, kiddo." Jesse cracked a smile, not noticing the gang of boys clambering out of the alleyway. "I'll be jus' fine."

"Heya, pansy." One spoke up, cracking his knuckles. "How's yer dads?"

"They're fine." Jesse stood defensively in front of Jack, shoulders squared. "Your ma's doin' fine."

"What didja say 'bout my mother?" The boy dug into his pocket, pulling out a knife suddenly. "Well, too bad, 'cause you ain't got one. Bet that kid behind yer back's got a ma. Is she yours too?"

Jesse furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Tha's Jack Morris, ain't it?" Another boy spoke up, "My dad told me all about your mother. Fifteen an' pregnant, wasn't she?" A couple of boys nodded. They had heard the stories.

"Don't say that about Braces!" Jesse argued, moving to punch the boy, only to be held back by Jack.

"Heard she did it in the alleyway with both of yer dads." The same boy raised an eyebrow, "Caused quite a stir down on 39th." Jesse shook his head, mumbling 'no' under his breath ad infinitum. "Somethin' wrong with that Jesse? Somethin' wrong with your pansy fathers?"

"Morris an' Oscar ain't pansies!" Jack spoke up, standing close to Jesse.

"So you'll defend his dads but not your mother? Or is she Jesse's mother too?" A voice in the back of the gang spoke up, as Jesse was suddenly cornered by the frontrunners.

"Jack, RUN!" Jesse pushed Jack away as the boys began to pinion him to a tree. Each one had a rock in their hand, and began to throw it at Jesse, yelling hateful words at him, stating he was worthless, and a bastard child in the first place. Jack stood by, trying to push some of the boys out of the way. But they were too big for him. He looked to Jesse, who fought the ropes as much as he could despite the blood on his head, the scrapes on his arms that were visible only up to his elbow, as his shirt covered the rest. The boy with the knife stepped forward and started working on bloodying the forearms even more, reminding Jack of a story his parents had told him of the horrible people he had to watch out for. Jesse couldn't suppress the screams. "Jack, get my dads, get Crutchie, getSOMEONE!"

"I can't leave you!" Jack replied, shaking his head.

"Yes you can. Run! I'll be fine." Jesse groaned, as the knife moved to his throat.

"I can't--Jesse!" Jack looked down to his legs fearfully.

"Run, Jack Morris! And remember what I told ya!" Jesse stated, before the knife was driven into his abdomen. "Run and remember!" He repeated weakly as the boys disbanded in horror.

Jack gasped, before nodding, and turning on a dime. "Watch me run!" He replied hopefully, looking back as the crowd of boys disappeared. Jesse remained with the knife driven into this stomach, blood seeping out everywhere, covering the ropes that tied him to the tree. He was already so much paler, so much weaker-looking. Jack speculated that he looked so much like Morris, rather than Oscar. He kept running, finally finding Oscar and breathlessly telling him what happened.

Oscar ran as quickly as he could back to his son. But Jesse was already gone. Morris showed up soon after, only to find Oscar sobbing on his knees, holding Jesse's body. The ropes lay discarded on the floor, cut hastily by Oscar in a moment of shock.

*

Jack returned home in shock, collapsing into Crutchie's arms, horrified. Braces hurried over to the doorway, concerned. "What's wrong?" She asked, stroking his hair gently.

"Jesse." Jack managed to get out, before looking up at his mother and hugging her tightly. "Mama, they killed him."

"Who did?" Crutchie inquired, looking to Braces in fear.

"These boys from school--they--," He broke off, sobbing. A quiet knock on the door came a moment later, and Crutchie opened the door. Morris, eyes wide and emotionless, hands covered in blood, stood on the doorstep and shook his head. Jack pulled away from his mother, and returned to Crutchie, who held him that much tighter.

Morris slowly walked over to Braces and threw his arms around her, letting himself sob. Oscar had already gotten the police, and taken Jesse to the mortuary, feeling it his duty. He told Morris to go home, but he couldn't do it. Jesse had been the bright spot in his life, something wonderful out of the worst time in his life.

"He's gone, Braces." Morris said tearfully, falling to his knees and holding his head in his hands. "Jesse Clarence Delancey. My boy." Braces nodded, choking back tears. She knelt next to Morris, and wrapped her arms around him. He was shaking violently as he sobbed, and Braces was trying whatever she could to comfort him. Jack was taken upstairs by Crutchie, and the rest of the Morris children were put to sleep and promised it would be explained in the morning. Braces found herself stroking Morris' hair and quietly singing to him as if he were a child, hoping to god that this wasn't her fault for never having told Jesse who his parents were.

"It's not your fault, Morris." Braces promised through her own tears, looking to Crutchie, who watched and wished he had something to say. "It isn't, it's... stupid boys. You used to be like that too." She remembered the Refuge. "It's okay."

"It's not okay." Morris sniffled, slowly sitting back up. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red. He looked thoroughly distraught, empty; like he would never be okay again. "He was my boy. He was going into the army and... an' they beat 'im 'up 'cause Oscar an' I--,"

"Stop that right now." Braces demanded, "You know this isn't your fault and you can't dwell on this." Morris nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"He didn't know about why he was born."

"I know he didn't."

"Should we have told him?"

"Probably."

"How do we fix this?"

"I..."

"Can we fix this?"

"We have to move on, Morris." Braces handed him a handkerchief. "It's hard, but it's like the gimp leg. It hurts real bad at first and it seems like ya can't move on but... but after a while ya get used to it an' it still 'oits sometimes, but ya keep goin'. Ya find the strength to remember tha' he's still a part of you even if 'e's gone." Morris nodded slowly, still shaking, and stood up, holding out a hand for Braces to take and stand up. Maybe they couldn't be okay, but maybe they were tough and would try anyway.

"He was so young." Morris commented.

"A year younger than you when it 'appened." Crutchie speculated.

"Yeah, a whole year." Morris frowned. "God, I'm sorry for what I did to all of you. Jus'... now that there isn't Jesse 'round--," he swallowed hard, choking back a sob. "I guess we'll get by."

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

Clint!Verse: Christmas

A/N: Once again this is AU.

December 24, 1905

"Daddy," Jesse asked Morris curiously, his five-year-old voice thickly accented, "The othah kids a' school don't got two dads." Morris crouched down next to him, and straightened Jesse's grey plaid tie. It was Christmas Eve, and they were expecting company.

"The othah kids a' school ain't you." Morris replied, ruffling Jesse's wavy brown hair. "Don' worry, ya got us an' ya got the Morrises."

"Daddy, Braces an' Crutchie ain't my parents!" Jesse protested, though he laughed a little. If only he knew, Morris thought to himself as he picked him off the ground and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was dressed in a clean, striped shirt and a similar tie to the one Jesse wore, only Morris had owned it since before the strike. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, as per usual. He smiled, still nervous about seeing the Fitzgerald-Morrises, as he liked to think of them, again. It had been a while... or, at least, since the wedding. And that was over a year ago. Oscar had planned the whole ordeal, seeking out Crutchie (much to both of their chagrin) and making plans.

Four quick knocks could be heard on the door, and Oscar answered.

"Merry Christmas!" Braces and Crutchie said in unison, holding a few boxes brightly wrapped and labeled to each member of the Delancey family.

"You swallowed a planet!" Oscar stated almost fearfully, before hugging the clearly pregnant Braces quickly, before pointing to her stomach and looking to Morris.

"You don't get this one." Crutchie replied, though he grinned, "It's mine."

Morris chuckled, putting Jesse back down onto the ground and walking over to hug his favorite gimps.  "Sorry," he whispered to Braces, still overly apologetic for what he had done under the influence. "It's okay," Braces smiled slightly, looking to Crutchie as they walked further into the house and set the presents under the tree.

Jesse ran up to Crutchie and peeked between his legs. "Crutch!" He said excitedly, causing Crutchie to look down.

"Heya, buddy, how ya doin'?" Crutchie asked, his eyes lighting up. He'd have a kid in two or three months, he remembered.

"I'se good. It's Christmas!" Jesse exclaimed, running to Oscar. The families sat down, and Crutchie stood up to make an announcement as soon as dinner was placed on the table.

"Merry Christmas, Delanceys. As you can prob'ly see," Crutchie said after clearing his throat awkwardly, "We's 'avin' a baby an' it'll be born in, uh, March. So I guess Jesse--," Morris shook his head quickly, stopping Crutchie from saying anything. They had yet to tell the boy that he was only half-theirs. "I guess Jesse, yous gettin' a cousin." Crutchie finished, then sat down next to Braces and held her hand. Morris stood up next, shakily, and cleared his throat for emphasis. EMPHASIS.

"Well, uh... I guess yous oughta know, if yous 'ere an' all." Morris started anxiously, looking to Oscar, who nodded as if to say he was doing the right thing. "But Oscar an' I--wes... wes in love?" He ended as a question rather than an answer. Crutchie looked to Braces confusedly, and she muttered something about a friend of hers, Holmesy, and how he had been that way. Morris sat back down, gaining some applause from Braces, who admittedly just wanted Morris and Oscar to stop feeling guilty. Dinner was a rushed affair, as Jesse wanted to get to the presents.

First things first, Jesse received a wooden train from Braces and Crutchie, who had pooled some resources and thought long and hard about what he would want. The presents Jesse would receive from his dads would be given in the morning. Then, Oscar opened his present from Morris: a dark grey scarf with red stripes, with a note that mentioned something about keeping safe and warm. Crutchie's present from Oscar was a five dollar bill, as their relationship was rather undeveloped, and they could have been Montagues and Capulets had Morris and Braces not been so close. Braces gave Morris a book she had read by Charles Dickens,Great Expectations.In return, Morris gave her a quilt because, as he said, she should "use the quilt to protect yerself from boys on drugs who follow their brothers."

Afterwards, they all sat together in front of the fire, remembering the days of the strike and what came afterwards. Oscar and Morris asked about the baby, what their possible names would be. Elizabeth or Jack Morris, they had decided, was to be the godson or daughter of Morris, as, once again, the friendship between Braces and Morris had been strong and remained strong through the years. Snow started to gently fall onto the windowsill and streets below, and, for a moment, it seemed all was peaceful, and all would be forgiven. Oscar and Morris sat close together, and Jesse had crawled into Crutchie's lap, telling him all about the kids at school and how he loved trains. And everything was perfect for a moment. It was as if nothing bad had happened between the families at all. It was as if they were a family.

[thislittlebuttonarchive]

Clint!Verse: The Haircut

A/N: Sorry it took so long to complete. I'm getting back into the swing of things and therefore my fics shall be fewer and farther between until spring break and eventually summer. Sorry about that. I'll try to keep up.

*

"Jesse, your hair's getting' longah." Oscar stated, tousling the boy's wavy brown hair. It was now long enough to touch the bottom of his chin. Morris walked over, grabbing Oscar's hand and smiling slightly. "Looks like ya need a haircut," Morris smiled slightly. Jesse, at 16 months old, had already started jabbering and throwing tantrums and saying words other than the name of his favorite godfather. Jesse put a hand to his hair, comprehending what they were saying, but not knowing what his dads were implying.

Jesse babbled something, and Morris picked up the boy with one arm, walking out of the small home with Oscar instinctively, nonchalantly latching onto his other hand. Morris smiled slightly, kissing Jesse's forehead. "It's not tha' I don't want 'im tah stay a kid ferever," Morris began. Noting the fact that Jesse's hair was his color, not Braces' or Oscar's. "Jus'... don't want 'im hittin' walls or nothin'." Morris lied. Oscar believed him, though, as they walked to a small barber's place nearby. Todd's, it was called. They never went there, as it cost a quarter to get a barber-shop haircut. But, for Jesse, no price was too high. They walked in and Oscar immediately started panicking. This was his boy, he couldn't grow up! Oscar picked the boy up from out of Oscar's arm and started out the door.

"Oscar, what're you doin'?" Morris asked, grabbing Jesse back and kissing Oscar's cheek. "He's gotta grow up sometime an' we gotta trim this brown hair o' his." Oscar to Morris for a minute as they sat Jesse down in a chair nearby, handing a quarter to the barber, Todd, who picked out a pair of rounded-edged scissors and set to work, leaving the Delanceys with arms around each other, watching in both fear and hope. Morris wondered when Jesse had gotten to be this tall, and Oscar wondered how on earth he was already babbling words to the barber, who replied in full-sentences as if answering a question.  Soon, the boy's hair was shorter and no longer falling in his eyes. Morris turned to Oscar, grabbed his face, and kissed him, only to cause Oscar to pull away and smile confusedly. "We're in public!" Oscar protested.

Morris stammered. "Oh--oh, right, sorry." Oscar grinned, picking up Jesse and heading outside. Time was going too fast, but maybe that was worth it. Swiftly went the days, one season following another, just as they had been told. Still, every fleeting moment was absolutely worth it.