don’t breathe too deep (don’t think all day)
@watchwhathappensfromafar day 2 of au week! It’s a little late but I don’t care fhksfdlb Werewolf/vampire stories are my favorites, so I hope I’m doing this justice hadslkfkljas. Warning for swearing and mild body horror. Didn’t go off the shits for this one because I wanted to do something sorta fluffy with it.
Jack Kelly smelled wrong.
Or, he would’ve smelled wrong, had he had a proper smell to him, but he didn’t, which, as far as Davey was concerned, was worse than wrong.
See, Race smelled like his cigars that usually remained unlit, and Crutchie smelled like dirt more often than not. Romeo always smelled like the perfumes he was trying, Spot smelled of sweat, and yes, Jack smelled like paints, like paints and city smoke, but he didn’t have any scent that was distinctly his own, which was odd. As far as Davey knew, most humans smelled of something that he couldn’t quite explain. Something that was just... human. But Jack just didn’t. He didn’t smell like anything.
Which was weird.
To be fair, the fact that Davey noticed to begin with was also pretty weird.
He couldn’t help it. Being a werewolf in Lower Manhattan of all places was exhausting, and being a part of the newsies there only made it harder to keep it a secret. He’d caught himself growling at Racetrack once, though to be fair, the full moon had been the next night, and he’d reluctantly had to hawk headlines about infernal barking and dog attacks the next morning.
Keeping the secret was difficult-- but he had to do it. He didn’t get a choice in the matter. If word got out that one of the Jacobses was a were... he didn’t want to think about the consequences. They’d go after him, of course, but Les... Les wasn’t like him. None of his family members were, and as far as Davey was concerned, it was going to stay that way.
One werewolf was more than enough, as far as he was concerned.
With his bag slung over his shoulder and his cap slightly crooked on his head, Davey walked side by side with Jack, the scentless wonder himself, and tried his best to focus on the words Jack was saying. It wasn’t normally hard to focus, and he was fairly certain he was doing a good job at pretending to focus, nodding along in all the right places as Jack rambled on, but he was too busy thinking.
Too busy thinking until Jack cuffed him on the shoulder, that is, with a hand cold enough to make him yelp on contact.
“Ey, you’se been actin’ weird all day,” the other boy piped, earning a low, irritable little huff from Davey.
“I’m fine, Jack,” he intoned.
Another swat to the shoulder made him roll his eyes and shoot a glare in Jack’s direction.
“You’se not,” Jack insisted, “you’se been actin’ all funny ever since th’ sun went down. Scared ‘o gettin’ jumped?”
Why don’t you smell like anything?
Why am I worried about this?
What does it even matter?
Oh. That’s right. It doesn’t.
Davey made a noncommittal noise and shrugged as well as he was able. Yes, the sunset was making him antsy, but it wasn’t the darkness that was setting him off. After all, he could see just fine.
Apparently I can’t smell all that fine.
Turning his gaze to Jack with his eyes semi-narrowed, Davey offered a false smile. “Nah. I’ve got you as bait, haven’t I?”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Why’s I th’ bait?” He asked, “you’se the one who can’t fight worth shit--”
“I’m faster.”
This time, Davey avoided the smack to his shoulder and gave a soft snort of a laugh. It wasn’t all that bad an end to a day that also, really wasn’t all that bad. The only real bummer was that he’d had to sell some paper about a freak series of attacks around Lower Manhattan, and it was really getting to some of the other boys. It was one of the few instances that Davey had really, really wished there hadn’t been a nice clear picture. An oozing, bitten wound on the side of someone’s neck really wasn’t something he’d wanted to see bright and early in the morning.
“Right, yeah,” Jack agreed, snapping him back into the present again, “’cos you’se faster and I tastes better, is that it?”
You probably don’t taste like anything.
Seeing as you don’t smell like anything.
Why was now the time he’d picked to notice Jack’s lack of scent?
Scrubbing a dirty hand across his face to mask a confused frown, Davey shrugged. “Wouldn’t know, Jack. Should I ask Katherine--”
Jack’s bag swung hard enough into Davey’s side to make the air leave his lungs in a startled, wheezing little gasp, though it quickly turned to a laugh when he caught sight of Jack’s almost offended expression.
“You know Kath an’ me ain’t--”
“Kath and I,” he corrected, automatically.
“Whatev’a. You knows we ain’t like that no more, yeah?”
He knew. He’d been the first to hear of the breakup, though, not from Jack. Instead, it had been from a pale-faced Katherine, who he didn’t see much of these days, just in passing glances. Whenever they met eyes, she was always quick to look away, though he didn’t know why.
“What,” Davey started, innocently eyeing him, “you don’t taste each other anymore?” He was already halfway ducking when he said it, and when Jack made to swing, Davey shot just far enough ahead of the other boy to cause his bag to swing into the nearest alley wall with an empty thump of fabric, just behind him.
“We nev’a did, ya ass!” Jack shouted after him, though there was no real malice in it. His voice had a laugh just beneath its surface, close enough to bubbling up through his words to make Davey’s lips twitch upward into a smile.
“How was I to know?” He shot back, turning to walk backward while grinning at Jack. “For all I know, you two are the ones going around biting people!”
He swore he saw Jack pale in that instant, though, it must’ve just been a trick of the light, the way his eyes had flickered with something close to fear before Davey blinked and it was all gone.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Dave,” Jack huffed, “watch yourself, or we’s gonna get ya next!”
With a playful shout, Jack leapt at him with his hands outstretched in false claws and his fangs--
His WHAT?
--his teeth, that was it-- bared in a snarl.
First my nose, now my eyes.
Swinging his hands up to stop Jack from crashing full into his front, Davey shook his head and gave the other boy a good shove in the chest. “Right, though I bet you’ll be doing the biting,” Davey said through a laugh.
“Ey, bett’a than that stupid-ass dog that the whole city’s been goin’ apeshit about. You’s gonna be lucky if ya’s bit by good ole reliable Jack Kelly!”
Davey swallowed. “Lucky?” He asked, trying to pull focus away from the way that Jack seemed almost eerily focused on him. “Why?”
“Oh, lot’sa reasons,” Jack explained. Striking a pose, the shorter boy shot Davey a look that could only be described as embarrassing. “Fer one, I’s handsome,” he began with a twitch of his brows.
Davey snorted. “Find a better reason.”
Jack brought a hand to his chest dramatically. “I’s crushed, David! You’se a real bastard, ya know that? I ain’t even given ya th’ best reason! That was jus’ a warm up!”
Turning on his heel, Davey shook his head, using it as an excuse to look skyward. No moon yet. None that he could see through the city smog, anyway, and it wasn’t supposed to be a full moon yet. Still... his skin was starting to itch, that animal inside him begging to be unleashed, and being in the alley with Jack was only making it plead with him in a louder, more convincing voice.
Davey shook it off. “Well, I don’t need to hear the rest--”
“I’s polite about it!”
He didn’t look up as Jack quickened his step to walk in time with him, bumping their shoulders together. “Really! I is! I’ll ask ya first an’ everythin’!”
A laugh escaped Davey at the almost offended tone snaking its way into Jack’s voice. “What, you just... come up and ask ‘hey, can I put my fangs in your neck?’” As he gave a laugh at the mental image, he heard Jack make a low, offended little noise beside him.
“Yeah-- well, not wit’ th’ fangs,” Jack corrected, “that’s a little too much, ain’t it?”
“Fangs?”
“Yeah. Feel like they’d make it ‘ard to talk.”
“Well...” Davey mused, stopping himself mid-step to look at Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Not like you’re talking all that well without them--”
“Ey!”
Again, Jack bared his teeth and lunged for Davey,and although Davey managed to catch his shoulders and stop Jack from slamming into him entirely, he felt his back connect with the alley wall.
Panting, sweat trickling down his forehead, Davey lolled his head back and gave a laugh. “What happened to asking first?” He prompted, though the joking edge to it had faltered, just for a moment, because there was something... different about Jack.
It was his eyes. Gleaming in the darkness in a way that Davey knew human eyes didn’t, and it was there in the way his lips twitched slightly and his jaw tensed, just enough to make him look like he was really considering it--
“I ain’t asked yet.” His hands didn’t move from Davey’s shoulders. It didn’t seem to matter that Davey was taller-- he’d slid far enough down the wall that they were practically at eye-level as Jack finally, finally shot him a grin. “Can I?”
He couldn’t explain his response. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain his response. It had been a joke at the time, though to Davey, it had seemed as though there had been an almost serious feeling hanging in the air above him. Locking eyes with Jack, Davey tipped his head back, exposing his neck completely. “Bite me, Kelly.” He breathed, though it quickly turned to a soft snicker.
It was the first time in a long time that Jack had ever gone silent in front of Davey. He wasn’t blushing, but in the darkness, it looked almost like he was trying to. His eyes were blown wide, trained, however, not on Davey but on his exposed throat. They looked almost hungry.
They’re not, Davey rationalized, because Jack isn’t actually going to bite anybody.
Adjusting how he was slumped against the wall for a split-second and looking into Jack’s eyes-- eyes that still weren’t focused on him-- Davey cocked his head. “Jack?”
That broke the spell. Jack’s hands fell from where they’d been on Davey’s shoulders, and when they were removed, it hit him just how hard Jack had been pressing against him. Hard enough that when Davey stumbled momentarily in an attempt to get back up to his full height, he felt a small twinge of discomfort across his shoulders.
Is it bruising?
Suddenly, it felt rather hard to breathe. With a hand that trembled and itched a tad, Davey loosened the collar of his shirt and watched without speaking as Jack stalked away from him.
He didn’t go far. He stopped a few feet ahead of Davey and brought his hands up to his face, and for a moment, Davey could’ve sworn that Jack was shaking.
Did... did I do something wrong?
Swallowing nervously, Davey inhaled and started after him, already trying to speak, but--
“How,” Jack began, calmy, “th’ FUCK did you know?”
The volume caught Davey off guard. His heart began to thrum heavily in his chest.
How did I...
An uncomfortable feeling settled across him as the figure of Jack heaved, still keeping his back turned to Davey in the darkness.
“H-How did I know what?” Davey stammered. It was all he could think to say. He had a feeling-- a squirming, writhing sort of feeling-- settling in his gut like a lead weight that told him he knew exactly what Jack was referring to.
But it couldn’t be right.
He stepped closer when Jack didn’t respond. “...Jackie?” He tried, the nickname earning him the noise of Jack taking a quivering, shaking breath.
“I’s tried so damn hard t’hide it,” Jack croaked, “I-- an’ you just comes into my life an’ you knows-- you-- you KNOWS! I ain’t told anyone-- I ain’t done nothin’ s’picious, I ain’t-- I goes out in th’ day like all the other boys, an’ I sells my papes an’ I don’t read too much into what’s on ‘em, I don’t-- I jokes about ‘em, fer fuck’s sake!”
Davey took another step closer to Jack, and hesitantly put his hand on the other newsie’s shoulder. “Jack. You-- slow down, what’re you so worked up about?” He asked, a desperate, pleading sort of lilt coming into his voice. “You-- you’re shaking like a leaf, you-- do you need to sit--”
And then Jack turned to face him. In the dim light of the alley, Davey could see something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Two somethings. A pair of sharp fangs curled out from behind Jack’s lips, and as Jack’s wide eyes met his own--
“I’m a vampire, Dave.”
The words came out in a rush, and once they were spoken, Davey’s ears started to ring, though not to a point where he couldn’t hear the noise of Jack choking on the air when he turned away.
“I-- I ain’t been th’ one bitin’ people, though, I’s not a-- I’s not some monster, and I don’t know-- I ain’t-- how--” Jack was starting to spiral. Davey could hear it in his voice. “--how did’ja just figure it out like that? That ain’t--”
He was cut off by Davey giving a sharp, disbelieving laugh. It was a small noise, really. More of a snort than anything, but by the time Jack turned around once more, fangs gleaming in the darkness, Davey had begun to shake with the force of his guffaws.
“Dave, this-- this ain’t a joke.” Jack sputtered, though when he opened his mouth to say more, Davey beat him to it.
“That’s why you don’t smell like anything,” he wheezed through a giggle, “and-- and that’s why you burn so easily in the sun, a-and--”
“Why I don’t smell?” Jack echoed. The look of confusion on his face was enough to send Davey over the edge.
He clutched at his stomach and stumbled back toward the alley’s brick wall, doubled over and cackling. “I-- I mean-- what’re the odds?” His voice was wobbling, though as he broke into another round of giggles, Jack made an exasperated noise.
“The odds of what? You’se really gonna lookit me an’ say vamps don’t exist? I’s got fangs, fer fuck’s sake, David!”
Davey shook his head. When he inhaled, it was shaky, and he threatened to break into a laugh with the air left in his lungs. “Jack,” he started, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, “it’s not that you’re bad at hiding it, it’s because I’m a lycanthrope.”
Jack’s confusion only seemed to grow. His brow furrowed, and although his words were a little slurred around the fangs, it was more than a little understandable. “Dave, I don’t gives a shit about yer religion, I wants to know why th’ fuck the way I smell was any clue!”
Davey lost it.
Gasping for air against laughter that bubbled up from his throat, he shook his head and put out a hand on the alley wall for balance. It wasn’t even that funny. As he wheezed and giggled almost hysterically to himself, he looked up at Jack with a wide, crooked grin. “It’s not a religion, Jackie. I’m a werewolf.”
There was a beat of silence before Jack’s eyes widened.
Davey managed to stifle his laughter as the other boy slowly, slowly began to slot the pieces together in his mind. He could practically hear the wheels in Jack’s head turning, probably squealing from years of misuse as they clicked and whirred until--
“Well, that would’a been nice to know.”
The laughter doubled in volume, now that two boys were in on it. It was nothing to laugh at-- vampirisim and lycanthropy weren’t exactly laughing matters-- but they didn’t care, because for the first time in a very, very long time, they’d let their secrets spill. It felt great.
Almost as great as when the pair scaled the fire escape to Jack’s rooftop penthouse, with the vampire in question still a little red in the face from his laughing. “So you’se-- you’se been sniffin’ me?”
“No! Just-- you notice things like that when you hang around people a lot. It’s why I figured out that you hung around Medda’s so much. Whole place smelled like you.”
As Davey hauled his way up onto the roof with help from a cold, strong grip, Jack frowned.
“Ey, I thought you said I didn’t smell.”
“Your clothes do,” Davey explained, “they smell like Medda’s.”
The night air was clear and crisp, now. It always seemed nicer up on the roof with the city far, far below them and the sky stretched out like a map above. It was one of the few times Davey could actually hear himself think. Having sensitive ears-- sensitive even for a were-- was tricky when you lived in Manhattan, where the city never seemed to quiet down, but...
Davey sighed, thoughtfully. “Never would’ve guessed the vampire thing,” he admitted, earning a shrug from Jack.
“Never would’a pinned ya as a wolf, though I guess that explains the sheddin’...”
The taller boy blushed. “I,” he stated, firmly, “do not--”
Jack jutted out his chin with a snicker. “Prove it, then.”
“How?”
That stumped him. Davey watched with an almost morbid fascination as Jack chewed on his lip with fangs he’d never noticed before.
They’re probably retractable.
Even now, his analytical mind was kicking into overdrive, putting together pieces from what he’d observed and realizing, with an odd sort of astonishment, that it had been fairly obvious. After all, he’d never seen Jack eat anything, and he was a little pale for a Manhattan newsie...
What does he even eat?
The answer was easily deduced, sure-- blood-- but where did he get it?
He didn’t bother asking Jack about it. Questions could come later, once the pair of them had figured out where they stood with the whole thing. It wasn’t as though Davey knew everything there was to know about being a werewolf. Keeping the conversation light seemed to be in his best interest, and he was more than happy to oblige.
Sitting on the roof in a spot usually occupied by Crutchie, Davey crossed his arms against the cold and waited for Jack to rebut him.
He didn’t need to wait long.
“Change,” Jack finally prompted with enough force and genuine command behind his voice that it caught Davey off guard.
His eyes widened a tad. “Here?”
“Why not? Nobody’s gonna see, an’ ‘sides, I wanna know if you’se really all as big an’ scary as wolves is s’posed to be.” There was no fear in Jack’s voice as he sat on the ledge of the roof, back toward the city and eyes expectantly on Davey, who shifted his weight under Jack’s gaze.
“I... I don’t know if that’s a good idea...” He tried, though it was met with a scoff.
“You seen my fangs, so I’d say it’s a good ole even trade. One fer one, hey?” Jack wheedled, leaning forward and baring his teeth as if to prove it.
Davey swallowed. “It’s not exactly the same. If you could turn into a bat, it’d be the same.”
“That’sa loada shit, Dave,” Jack huffed, “I’s tried. Must be for them pureblood fuckers.” For a moment, Jack seemed to lose his train of thought, though he was quick to put his attention back on Davey. “But I wanna see! C’mon, only for a minute. It don’t hurt you, does it?”
Shrugging, Davey scuffed a foot against the roof. “A little. Just itches, mostly.”
“An’ ya don’t need a full moon?”
“That’s bullshit,” Davey admitted with a sigh.
“Then get itchy, Jacobs!” Jack exclaimed.
Davey laughed, though it was a little strained sounding.
The roof would hold... and he’s not gonna let me off the hook for this one, is he?
A glance at Jack’s expression confirmed it. There was a childish light in his eyes, something eager and excited, like Les every Christmas when he’d wake up extra early and practically drag Davey down the stairs and into the living room. It was startlingly similar.
“...promise you won’t tell?” He finally asked.
Jack’s eyes gleamed. “Ey, ‘course I wouldn’t. You’se... you’se not th’ wolf attackin’ people though, right? You’se... you’se still you when ya change?”
Davey nodded. “I-- I’m still me,” he confirmed, already shakily getting to his feet, “th-though I usually do this alone. Could you... erm... could you turn--”
He didn’t need to finish the request. With a mock salute, Jack turned to face the city lights, leaving his back to Davey.
Right.
He actually wants me to do this.
There was something almost like excitement rising in Davey’s chest as he carefully shed his vest and cap, tucking them neatly away, though he couldn’t tell why. It wasn’t like he’d never shifted before.
“Don’t look--” He started to say.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jack interrupted, “get itchy, whatev’a.”
A soft snort escaped Davey before he could stifle it.
Okay.
We’re doing this.
The animal under his skin twitched. It was disorienting, having it so close to the surface. He’d never forced a transformation before-- never had reason to-- but it couldn’t be all that hard, could it? He had to resist the urge to change most of the time, so... it would happen fast.
Right?
Okay.
He thought again, and with a nervous little breath, he let his eyes slide closed.
It all happened so much faster when he let it.
He barely had time to brace for the stinging sensation of fur prickling up across his body, and with a dull thump, he was brought to his knees under a new muscle weight his body wasn’t prepared for, and once he hit the ground--
He could feel his form changing-- claws pressing through where his fingers had been, his jaws elongating into a muzzle with a pain that was dull enough to go through silently-- and as his bones shifted and cracked into place, he struggled not to focus on the nauseating sensations of his internal organs shifting.
His breaths came quicker.
A canine tongue lolled past his sharp teeth.
His claws dug into the roof’s surface as he felt his vertebrae beginning to pop and click against each other in an elongated spine, and then with a searing, awful pain that made him give an animal little yelp--
A plumed tail thumped against the bricks.
Davey’s heart was beating a little too fast as he carefully, carefully stumbled a little ways away from Jack-- who was still standing with his back turned-- and tried to process how easily the shift had come. It hadn’t hurt like the last times-- not really-- it hadn’t--
“...Dave?”
His ears perked up at the familiar voice. His eyes-- wild and a little scared-- tracked to Jack’s shape.
Can I speak like this?
He’d never tried. He’d never had a reason to try. Inhaling, forcing himself to step closer with his claws skittering slightly on the roof, he looked down at Jack and gave a low rumble in the back of his throat. “...okay.” He breathed. It was raspy, sounding more like a bark than anything else, but it prompted Jack to spin around.
When his eyes met Jack’s, at first, he thought he saw fear there.
He couldn’t blame the other boy. He was huge. Huge and animal with teeth designed to bite and tear up prey before they could get a word in edgewise, and not to mention, his hulking shape was taking up a good amount of the rooftop. Thick fur covered him from head to toe, and although it had a bit of curl to it, it was murky looking, patchy around his shoulders and down his back.
His ears pinned back. His tail tucked between his legs.
“...Jackie?” He tried, inwardly cringing at the rough, grating tone escaping his lips.
Jack’s face lit up.
Before Davey could do so much as flinch, a pair of cold, careful hands were on the sides of his shaggy head. “Holy shit! An’ t’think all this time I thought you was a weakling,” Jack exclaimed, already grinning from ear to ear in a way that made his fangs pop out. “You’s fuckin’ huge! Jesus, is all wolves this big? Do you know?”
Already, he was creeping closer.
Davey slumped into a sitting position and tried to shrug. Moving slowly, as not to scare the other boy, Davey laid himself down in a mess of matted, brown fur and let his head rest atop his enormous, clumsy looking paws.
Jack looked like he was going to implode. Davey could practically hear the questions Jack wasn’t asking as the other boy looked him over, striding closer by the second. “I-- you’se-- wow, Dave, this-- this is somethin’,” Jack praised.
Davey’s tail wagged in response.
“And...” The vampire drawled with an almost smug smile. As he spoke, he let his hand press against Davey’s side and come downward in a gentle, petting motion. “You does shed.”
Davey didn’t remember much of the rest of the night. He remembered trying to speak and getting laughed at. He remembered the soft noises of the boys in the lodgehouse below them stirring in the night. He remembered the feeling of Jack’s cold hands tracing patterns against the fur on his side.
But what he remembered best was falling asleep, wrapped around the cold shape of Jack Kelly, and wondering if the other boy was warm.