David didn't really understand what he was doing here. He was miles away from his apartment, where he should have been eating supper with his family before tucking Les in for bed. They were probably worried about him since he was never home late, not even when he had gotten dragged with to Tibby's by the newsies for dinner.
But somehow, David didn't care. Not now, not with the circumstances. Not when Denton, the one person who was publicizing the strike, was leaving.
No, David couldn't care right now.
Sighing, David reached out to the door in front of him and knocked. No one answered, and David turned away to the street because he had waited too long and Denton had already left. Who could blame him? He had a job to keep, and he'd been selected as an Ace War Correspondent. It was a big jump from covering the strike. Hell, if David had been in the same position, he might've left too. You just don't throw jobs away during times like these. It was too easy to end up on the streets, and if abandoning the strike kept Denton's job for him, then he had to do it.
It doesn't make it right, David thought bitterly.
Sighing again, David jammed his hands into his pocket and ran back up the steps to the door. He threw himself against the wood, making a loud thud as he slammed into it again and again. Now he was pounding on the door, yanking on the metal knob, digging his nails into the grain. A few splinters of wood caught the skin on his fingers, and David began to bleed. But still he knocked on the door, sobbing tears now because Denton was gone, really gone, and it had nothing to do with his job or the strike.
It had to do with him, David. It was his fault Denton was leaving.
Suddenly the door flung inward, and David was left reeling. He looked up with his mouth wrenched open, his eyes red from his tears, barely able to see the figure standing at the door. Denton took one look at him and reached out tenderly, pulling David into his apartment.
The place looked deserted, and it only made David's heart stretch more. He had known every inch of this room, but now everything familiar was packed into boxes that were stacked by the door. Denton wrapped his arm around David's shoulder and directed him into the den, the one room that was still slightly furnished. David pulled himself away from Denton's grip and flung himself into the chair, hiding his face behind one of his bloody hands. He was so ashamed to be here, crying over Denton. He was so pathetic, absolutely pathetic.
"David. David!" Denton said to him, though his voice sounded so far away.
David laughed, shaking his head. Hell, all of him was shaking, and now he was crying again and just wanted to disappear. He shouldn't have come here. He had known something horrible like this was going to happen.
Denton sighed and reached to his desk, where he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of liquor and a couple glasses. He poured two shots, guzzling one down and handing the second to David. The teen reached out and took it expressionlessly, hissing as it burned his throat on the way down. Denton didn't say anything, just took the glass back and refilled it.
"Why are you here?" Denton finally asked him.
David glared at Denton, his eyes throwing daggers. How dare he ask what he was doing here, like he was so shocked. He knew why, he knew why he was crying. And he didn't care.
That's what hurt so much, to know that everything- the praise, the looks, the kisses, the sex- was nothing. And now that he had an excuse to leave, he was out the door. Of course this was all so surprising.
"What do you think," David snarled at Denton, his eyes bloodshot red.
Denton sighed and sat down in the chair next to David, placing his glass on the table as he did and taking a swig straight out of the bottle. Then he passed it to David, who did the same. "We made a mistake, David. I'm just putting it right."
David laughed and thrust the bottle back at Denton. "A mistake? Is being happy a mistake? Is knowing that someone loves me a mistake?"
Denton didn't answer right away, mostly because he knew as well as David that David was right. What they had done together was perfectly reasonable. Two men had found themselves in love, and it was only when Denton had started to rationalize that he'd decided to let go. "You don't need me to be happy, David, in fact you shouldn't need me to be happy. Have you forgotten how old I am, David? You're just a boy, damn it! The fact that I lead you on was a mistake."
David snarled and jumped up from his seat, throwing the bottle onto the table. He had been irrational from the moment he had walked through the door, but now with the alcohol coursing through his veins he couldn't even think. "Have you forgotten that it was I who lead you on?" he spat. "You don't have to blame yourself for any of this, except for trying to run away."
Now it was Denton who leapt up from his chair. He roughly pushed David towards the door, his eyes glinting. "Get out of here, David, before you do something you'll regret. I'm trying to end this, like I should have done earlier."
David cocked his head, his breathing ragged. He stepped forward, daring Denton to shove him away again. "You wanted to end this before? I highly doubt it," he said slowly, taking even more steps towards the elder man. "I doubt that you want to end it now, otherwise you wouldn't have let me in."
Denton shook his head and looked down at his shoes. "David, don't do this," he warned.
But David was young, and he was reckless, and he was in love, so he didn't bother to listen. "Voices of authority are on their way out, Denton," David said softly. "That's the trend these days."
Either David had commanded a stronger argument than Denton, or Denton was tired from fighting, but either way the fight was placed aside. Denton reached out to David, pulling him into his chest, and David responded by grinding his hips upwards. The contact sent chills up his spine, sparks in every inch of his body. And then their lips met, a bit sloppily from the alcohol but just as passionate as ever. Neither man could pull away for breath; they were too intense in their passions. Denton stepped forward, running his hands through David's hair, and pressed him up against the wall of the door.
Suddenly the kiss broke apart and Denton pulled his head back, studying David. The fire was gone from his eyes.
"Are you sure about this, David?" he asked huskily. "Because I can pull a few strings, get my old job back. See the strike through, and all that."
David licked his lips. "Yeah, and all that. But you have to promise to never try to leave me again. I won't let you."
Denton grinned and pressed his lips back on David's, nudging them open with his tongue so he could taste David's teeth. After warring for a few minutes with David's tongue, he pulled back and nodded. "I'd better call your parents, tell them you're spending the night here. I'll tell them that you were ambushed by the Delancey's and that I'm taking care of you. It'll explain your hands."
David looked down at his hands, which were scratched and covered with dried blood. Denton's shirt had his handprints all over it, too. "Sounds like a good plan to me," he said before pushing Denton away, stepping forward to maintain their contact. He placed his hands on Denton's hips, gripping tightly because there was no way he was going to let his love get away from him.
The Trend These Days by SmithsonianGirl